H 


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[Pmgell 

"'THE   SWOHD    AND   THE   CRUCIFIX  !'  WHISPERED   DE    SANCERRE, 
POINTING   FROM    THE    SOLDIER   TO   THE    PRIEST" 


With 

Sword   and   Crucifix 

Being  an  Account  of  the  Strange  Adventures  of 

Count  Louis  de  Sancerre,  Companion  ofSieur 

de  la  Salle,  on  the  Lower  Mississippi 

in  the    Tear  of  Grace  1682 

BY 

EDWAKD  S.  VAN  ZILE 

ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 
1900 


Copyright,  1899,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 

All  right,  rntrvtd. 


Wtr 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  IN   WHICH   A   GREAT   EXPLORER    LISTENS    AT 

MIDNIGHT  TO  A  TALE  OF  LOVE 1 

II.  IN  WHICH  DE  SANCERRE  is  CONFRONTED  BY  A 

MYSTERY v 9 

III.  IN  WHICH  A  MAIDEN  Snows  HER  HEART     .    .    18 

IV.  IN  WHICH  DE  LA  SALLE  REACHES  A  FATEFUL 

DECISION 26 

V.  IN  WHICH  A  DAUGHTER  GRANTS  A  FATHER'S 

WISH 33 

VI.  IN   WHICH    JUAN   RODRIQUEZ    UNDERGOES   AN 

UNPLEASANT  HALF-HOUR 40 

VII.  IN    WHICH   JUAN    RODRIQUEZ   TAKES   His  RE 
VENGE     ...         .     .         .     .         ....    49 

VIII.  IN   WHICH    SATAN    HAS   His   WAY   WITH   THE 

CoycEPCioN 58 

IX.  IN  WHICH   Two   CHILDREN   OF   THE   SUN   AS 
TONISH  A  SCOUNDREL 64 

X.  IN  WHICH  THE  CROSS  is  CARRIED  TO  A  CITY 

OF  IDOLATERS 72 

XI.  IN   WHICH   THE   BROTHER  OF  THE  SUN  WEL 
COMES  THE  CHILDREN  OF  THE  MOON     ...    81 
XII.  IN  WHICH  CHATEMUC  FINDS  THE  INSPIRATION 

WHICH  HE  LACKED 92 

XIII.  IN  WHICH  DE   SANCERRE   RUNS   A  STUBBORN 

RACE 103 

m 


M532975 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XIV.  IN  WHICH  THE   RESULTS   OP    CHATEMUC'S 

ENTHUSIASM  ARE  SEEN 114 

XV.  IN   WHICH   THE    GRAY   FRIAR   DONS   THE 

LIVERY  OF  SATAN 123 

XVI.  IN   WHICH   A  SPIRIT  SAVES  DE  SANCERRE 

FROM  DEATH 133 

XVII.  IN  WHICH  DE  SANCERRE  BREAKS  His  FAST 

AND  SMILES 146 

XVIII.  IN  WHICH  DE  SANCERRE  HEARS  NEWS  OF 

THE  GREAT  SUN 156 

XIX.   IN  WHICH   COHEYOGO  EXHIBITS  HlS  CRAFT 
INESS    167 

XX.  IN  WHICH  A  WHITE  ROBE  FAILS  TO  PRO 
TECT  A  BLACK  HEART 181 

XXI.  IN    WHICH    DE    SANCERRE    WIELDS    His 

SWORD  AGAIN 194 

XXII.  IN  WHICH  THE  CITY  OF  THE  SUN  ENJOYS 

A  FETE 206 

XXIII.  IN  WHICH  DE  SANCERRE  UNDERGOES  MANY 

VARIED  EMOTIONS 219 

XXIV.  IN  WHICH  SPIRITS,  GOOD  AND  BAD,  BESET 

A  WILDERNESS 232 

XXV.  IN    WHICH    DE    SANCERRE    WEEPS    AND 

FIGHTS 242 

XXVI.  IN  WHICH  DONA  JULIA  is  REMINDED  OF 

THE  PAST 253 

XXVII.  IN  WHICH  ST.  EUSTACE  is  KIND    TO   DE 

SANCERRE 264 

XXVIII.  IN  WHICH  DE  SANCERRE'S  ISLAND  is  BE 
SIEGED     277 

XXIX.  IN  WHICH  THE  GREAT  SPIRIT  COMES  FROM 

THE  SEA  TO  RECLAIM  COYOCOP      .     .     .     290 
iv 


ILLUSTKATIONS 


'  '  THE  SWORD  AND  THE  CRUCIFIX  !'  WHIS 
PERED  DE  SANCERRE,  POINTING  FROM 
THE  SOLDIER  TO  THE  PRIEST"  ....  Frontispiece 

"THE    CAPTAIN    HURLED    HIM   DOWN   UPON 

THE  DECK" Facing  p.     46 

"THE  FRENCHMAN,  WITH  A  GRAY  SMILE  UPON 
HIS  PALLID  FACE,  RUSHED  PAST  THE 
LINE,  A  WINNER  OF  THE  RACE  BY  TWO 
FULL  YARDS" "  112 

"COOL,  MOTIONLESS,  WITH  UNFLINCHING  EYES, 
THE  FRENCHMAN  STOOD  WATCHING  THE 
CHIEF  PRIEST" "  176 

' '  A  WHITE  -  FACED  MAN  PRESSING  TO  HIS 

BREAST  A  DARK -HAIRED  MAIDEN  ...  "  238 

"HE  FELT  A  LIGHT  HAND  UPON  HIS  ARM, 
AND  GAZED  DOWN  INTO  THE  DARK  EYES 
OF  THE  MAIDEN ".  ...  "  296 


WITH  SWORD   AND   CRUCIFIX 


CHAPTER  I 

IN  WHICH  A  GREAT  EXPLORER  LISTENS  AT  MIDNIGHT 
TO  A  TALE  OF  LOVE 

"  Louis  LE  GRAND,  King  of  France  and  Na 
varre,  has  deserted  pleasure  to  follow  piety — and 
times  are  changed,  monsieur." 

The  speaker,  Louis  de  Sancerre,  of  Languedoc, 
descendant  of  a  famous  constable  of  France, 
leaned  against  a  tree  near  the  shore  of  a  majestic 
river,  and  musingly  watched  the  moonbeams  as 
they  chased  the  ripples  toward  an  unknown  sea. 
A  soft,  cool  breeze,  heavy  with  the  odor  of  new 
born  flowers,  caressed  his  pale,  clear-cut  face,  and 
toyed  with  the  ruffles  and  trappings  of  a  costume 
more  becoming  at  Versailles  than  in  the  mys 
terious  wilderness  through  which  its  wearer  had 
floated  for  many  weeks. 

On  the  bank  at  the  exiled  courtier's  feet  lay 
reclining  the  martial  figure  of  a  man,  whose 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

stern,  immobile  face,  lofty  brow,  and  piercing 
eyes  told  a  tale  of  high  resolve  and  stubborn 
will.  Sieur  de  la  Salle,  winning  his  way  to  im 
mortality  through  wastes  of  swamp  and  cane- 
brake  and  the  windings  of  a  great  river,  had 
made  his  camp  at  a  bend  in  the  stream  from 
which  the  outlook  seemed  to  promise  the  fulfil 
ment  of  his  dearest  hopes.  On  the  crest  of  a  low 
hill,  sloping  gently  to  the  water,  his  followers  had 
thrown  up  a  rude  fort  of  felled  trees,  and  now  at 
midnight  the  adventurous  Frenchmen  and  their 
score  of  Indian  allies  were  tasting  sleep  after  a 
day  of  wearisome  labor. 

De  la  Salle  and  a  hapless  waif  from  the  splen 
did  court  of  Louis  XIV.,  more  sensitive  than 
their  subordinates  to  the  grandeur  of  the  under 
taking  in  which  they  were  engaged,  had  felt  no 
wish  to  slumber.  They  had  strolled  away  from 
the  silent  camp ;  and,  for  the  first  time  since 
Count  Louis  de  Sancerre  had  joined  the  expe 
dition,  its  leader  had  been  learning  something  of 
the  flippant,  witty,  reckless,  debonair  courtier's 
career. 

"  Beware  the  omnipresent  ear  of  the  Great 
Order,  Monsieur  le  Comte !"  exclaimed  La  Salle, 
rising  to  his  elbow  and  searching  the  shadows 
behind  him  with  questioning  eyes.  "  Think  not, 
de  Sancerre,  that  in  the  treacherous  quiet  of  this 
wilderness  you  may  safely  speak  your  mind.  I 
2 


A    TALE    OF    LOVE 

have  good  reason  to  distrust  the  trees,  the  waters, 
and  the  roving  winds.  Where  I  go  are  ever 
savages  or  silence,  but  always  in  my  ear  echoes 
the  stealthy  footfall  of  the  Jesuit.  And  this  is 
well,  monsieur.  I  seize  this  country  in  the  name 
of  France ;  the  Order  takes  it  in  the  name  of 
God !" 

"  In  the  name  of  God !"  repeated  de  Sancerre, 
mockingly.  "You  know  Versailles,  monsieur? 
There  is  no  room  for  God.  Banished  once  by  a 
courtesan,  the  Almighty  now  succumbs  to  a  con 
fessor." 

"  Hold,  monsieur !"  cried  La  Salle,  sternly. 
"This  is  blasphemy!  Blasphemy  and  treason! 
But  enough  of  priests!  You  tell  me  that  you 
loved  this  woman  from  the  court  of  Spain?" 

"How  can  I  say?  What  is  love,  monsieur?" 
exclaimed  de  Sancerre,  lightly,  throwing  him 
self  down  beside  his  leader. 

It  was  as  if  a  butterfly,  born  of  the  moon 
beams,  had  come  to  ask  a  foolish  riddle  of  the 
grim  forest-glades.  The  incarnation  of  all  that 
was  most  polished,  insincere,  diabolical,  fascinat 
ing  at  Versailles  had  taken  the  form  of  a  hand 
some  man,  not  quite  forty  years  of  age,  who 
reclined  at  midnight  upon  the  banks  of  an  unex 
plored  river,  and  pestered  the  living  embodiment 
of  high  adventure  and  mighty  purposes  with  the 
light  and  airy  nothings  of  a  courtier's  tongue. 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

How  should  Sieur  de  la  Salle  know  the  mystery 
of  love?  He  who  had  wooed  hardship  to  win 
naught  but  the  kiss  of  disappointment,  he  who 
had  cherished  no  mistress  save  the  glory  of 
France,  no  passion  but  for  King  and  Church, 
was  not  a  source  from  which  a  flippant  world 
ling  could  wring  a  definition  of  the  word  of 
words. 

The  majestic  silence  of  the  night  was  broken 
by  the  raucous  muttering  of  some  restless 
dreamer  within  the  confines  of  the  camp.  An 
owl  hooted,  and  far  away  a  wolf  bayed  at  the 
moon.  La  Salle  arose,  climbed  the  bank  to  see 
that  his  sentries  were  attentive  at  their  posts, 
and  then  returned  to  Count  de  Sancerre's  side. 

"  You  do  not  answer  me,  Sieur  de  la  Salle !" 
exclaimed  the  latter,  testily.  "  I  have  sought 
the  answer  from  La  Fontaine,  from  Moliere,  Ka- 
cine ;  aye,  from  Bossuet  and  Fenelon.  'Twas  all 
in  vain.  They  were  men,  you  say,  and  did  not 
understand?  But  I  have  asked  the  question  of 
de  Montespan,  la  Yalliere,  la  Fayette,  Sevigne. 
One  was  witty,  another  silent,  and  all  were  wrong. 
There  remained,  of  course,,  de  Maintenon.  Her 
I  never  asked.  She  would  have  said,  I  doubt 
not,  that  love  is  a  priest  who  leads  by  prayer  to 
power." 

"  You  wander  far  afield,  Monsieur  le  Comte," 
remarked  La  Salle,  coldly,  after  an  interval  of 

4 


A    TALE    OF    LOVE 

silence.  "  The  night  grows  old,  and  still  you 
have  not  told  me  why  you  left  the  splendors 
that  you  love,  to  risk  your  life  in  this  fierce 
struggle  in  an  unknown  land." 

"  To  risk  my  life  ?"  cried  the  Count,  laughingly. 
"  If  that  were  all !  To  tear  my  velvets  where 
no  draper  is,  to  see  the  gay-plumed  birds  a-laugh- 
ing  at  my  plight,  to  long  in  vain  for  powder  for 
ray  wig,  to  find  my  buckles  growing  red  with 
damp — all  this  is  worse  than  death.  But  still,  I 
bear  it  bravely,  do  I  not  ?  Ah,  well,  Turenne — 
God  rest  his  soul! — taught  me  the  lessons  of  a 
hard  campaign.  What  is  this  voyage  in  a  bark 
canoe  upon  the  peaceful  breast  of  yonder  stream? 
A  pleasure-jaunt,  monsieur,  to  one  who  fought 
with  France  against  the  world — who  sheathed 
his  sword  at  Nimeguen.  Once  only  were  we 
beaten,  de  la  Salle.  The  Dutch  let  in  the  sea, 
and,  lo !  his  Majesty  and  Luxembourg,  Turenne 
and  Conde,  Yauban  and  the  rest,  were  powerless 
against  the  mighty  ally  of  the  foe.  I  say  to  you, 
Monsieur  le  Capitaine,  beware  the  sea!  You 
seek  it  in  your  quest.  'Tis  full  of  treaciiery." 

The  Count  had  arisen  and  drawn  his  sword, 
which  gleamed  in  the  moonlight  as  he  turned 
its  point  toward  the  unknown  mouth  the  roving 
river  sought. 

"  This  blade,"  he  said,  reseating  himself  and 
patting  the  steel  with  affection,  "  flashed  gayly 

5 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

for  the  King  upon  the  Ehine.  Alas  for  me,  it 
drove  me  at  the  last  to  seek  my  fortunes  in  a 
Aveary  land." 

"  You  drew  it,  then,  for  something  other  than 
the  cause  of  France?"  remarked  La  Salle,  sus 
piciously. 

"  For  that  of  which  we  spoke,  which  no  tongue 
voices  but  all  hearts  have  felt.  I  drew  it  once 
for  love — et  voild  tout/" 

"  You  killed  a  Spaniard,  then  ?" 

"  They  speak  the  truth,  monsieur,  who  say  your 
mind  is  quick.  She — as  I  told  you — came  to 
France  with  Spain's  great  embassy.  He,  a  strut 
ting  grandee,  proud  and  bigoted,  came  with  the 
suite,  holding  some  post  that  made  his  person 
safe.  The  tool  of  diplomats,  the  pet  of  priests, 
my  rival — as  he  was — defied  my  hate.  'Tis  said 
they  were  betrothed,  Don  Josef  and —  But  hold ! 
her  name  I  need  not  speak." 

The  Count  remained  silent  for  a  time,  Avatch- 
ing  the  moon-kissed  waters  at  his  feet.  La  Salle, 
grim,  reticent,  but  not  unsympathetic,  gazed  stead 
fastly  at  his  companion's  delicately-carved  face. 
A  stern  knight-errant,  Avho  sought  to  win  an  em 
pire  for  his  king,  lay  wasting  the  midnight  hours 
to  listen  to  a  love-tale  from  a  flippant  tongue. 

"  'Twas  with  this  blade,"  went  on  de  Sancerre 
after  a  time,  waving  his  sword  from  side  to  side 
in  the  moonlight,  "  that  I  pierced  his  heart — and 

6 


A    TALE    OF    LOVE 

broke  my  own.    For  which  all  praise  be  to  Saint 
Maturin,  who  watches  over  fools." 

"  He  was  no  coward,  then  ?"  questioned  La 
Salle. 

"  Not  when  his  pride  was  pricked,"  answered 
de  Sancerre.  "  Great  wars  have  been  begun  with 
less  diplomacy  than  I  employed  to  make  my  in 
sult  drive  him  to  his  steel.  But,  Spanish  blood 
is  hot,  and,  truth  to  tell,  my  tongue  can  cut  and 
thrust.  Her  eyes  were  on  us  at  &fete  champetre 
when,  standing  by  his  side,  I  spoke  the  words 
that  made  him  mine  at  midnight  —  'neath  a 
moon  like  this.  There's  little  left  to  tell.  He 
knew  a  Spanish  trick  or  two,  but,  monsieur,  he 
was  a  boy!  In  the  moonlight  there  his  eyes 
were  so  like  hers  I  lost  all  pity — and — so — he 
died." 

"  And  then?" 

"  And  then  I  vowed  a  candle  to  St.  Christopher 
and  sailed  across  the  sea.  Breathe  it  not,  mon 
sieur —  I  bore  a  letter  from  de  Montespan  to 
Frontenac." 

"  Then  cut  your  tongue  out  ere  you  tell  the 
tale,"  exclaimed  La  Salle,  gruffly.  After  a  mo- 
.ment's  silence  he  went  on,  more  gently:  "But, 
Monsieur  le  Comte,  I  cannot  understand  the  ease 
of  your  escape.  You've  roused  the  anger  of  the 
King,  de  Maintenon,  the  Jesuits,  and  Spain. 
Such  foes  could  crush  an  empire  in  a  day." 

7 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

"  But  you  yourself,  monsieur,  have  stood  against 
them  all." 

"I?"  exclaimed  La  Salle,  musingly.  "You 
may  be  right,  my  friend.  I  sometimes  wonder 
if  my  life  is  charmed.  Whom  can  I  trust,  mon 
sieur?  Allies  false  when  the  hour  of  danger 
came,  assassins  at  my  bedside,  and  poison  in  my 
food—  all  these  I've  known,  monsieur.  And  still 
I  live." 

The  two  adventurers  had  arisen  and  were  fac 
ing  each  other  in  the  moonlight.  La  Salle,  tall, 
commanding  —  a  king  by  the  divine  right  of  a 
dauntless  soul  —  stood,  with  head  uncovered,  look 
ing  down  at  the  slender,  graceful  patrician  con 
fronting  him. 

"  You  strive  for  France,  Sieur  de  la  Salle,"  ex 
claimed  de  Sancerre,  the  mocking  note  gone  from 
his  voice  —  "for  the  glory  of  dear  France  —  and 
France  will  not  destroy  you." 

"For  France!"  repeated  La  Salle,  solemnly. 
"  For  France  and  for  the  Church  !  Vive  le 


Silently  they  turned  and,  mounting  the  hil 
lock,  made  their  way  toward  the  sleeping  camp, 
while  the  Mississippi  rolled  on  beneath  the  moon 
to  tell  a  strange  tale  to  the  listening  waters  of 
the  gulf. 


CHAPTER  II 

IN  WHICH  DE  SANCERRE  IS  CONFRONTED  BY  A 
MYSTERY 

LIKE  a  statue  done  in  bronze  stood  Chatemuc 
before  a  hastily -constructed  hut  at  the  rear  of 
the  log  fort  in  which  the  rank  and  file  of  the  ex 
plorers  lay  sleeping.  La  Salle  had  chosen  the 
sentry  as  his  special  body-guard,  for  at  many  a 
critical  juncture  in  his  long  years  of  exploration 
—menaced  at  all  times,  as  he  had  been,  by  a 
thousand  lurking  perils — the  daring  Frenchman 
had  tested  the  loyalty  and  courage  of  this  stal 
wart  Mohican,  who,  for  love  of  a  white  man,  had 
wandered  many  weary  miles  from  his  tribal  hunt 
ing-grounds. 

Within  the  rude  but  spacious  hut  over  which 
the  phlegmatic  Indian  stood  guard  lay  sleeping, 
as  La  Salle  and  de  Sancerre  entered  the  en 
closure,  two  men  who  had  found  rest  upon  heaps 
of  leaves  and  grass,  and  whose  strangely  -  con 
trasted  outlines,  emphasized  by  the  errant  moon 
beams  that  penetrated  the  chinks  between  the 
logs,  called  attention  to  the  curious  mixture  of 


WITPI    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

unrelated  nationalities  of  which  La  Salle's  ex 
pedition  was  made  up.  In  one  corner  of  the  hut 
reclined  the  slender  form  of  the  Franciscan  friar, 
Zenobe  Membre.  Upon  his  placid,  smiling  face 
— a  countenance  suggestive  of  religious  enthusi 
asm  even  while  he  slept — rested  a  ray  of  silvery 
light,  as  if  the  prayer  that  he  had  uttered  ere 
he  fell  asleep  had  transformed  itself  into  a  halo  to 
glorify  his  pillow  through  the  night.  His  thin 
1  jands  were  crossed  upon  his  breast,  and  showed 
white  and  transparent  against  the  gray  back 
ground  of  his  garb. 

Within  the  shadows  at  an  opposite  corner  of 
the  apartment  lay  the  lithe,  muscular  figure  of 
a  man  whose  costume  made  it  difficult  for  the 
observer  to  determine  whether  the  wearer  was  a 
foot-soldier  from  the  Low  Countries  or  a  Cana 
dian  coureur  de  ~bois.  The  truth  was  that  Henri 
de  Tonti's  experiences  as  an  Italian  officer  in  the 
Sicilian  wars  had  left  their  impress  upon  his  at 
tire  as  an  explorer  under  de  la  Salle.  As  he 
lay,  fully  dressed,  in  the  moonlight  that  night 
he  might  well  have  been  a  sculptor's  dream,  rep 
resenting  in  his  outlines  the  martial  genius  of 
the  Old  World,  bringing  "not  peace  but  a  sword" 
to  the  ISTew.  A  bare  hand  rested  lovingly  upon  the 
cross-piece  of  his  rapier,  which  he  had  unfastened 
from  his  waist  and  tossed  upon  the  dry  grass  of  his 
couch.  His  other  hand  was  covered  by  a  glove. 
10 


CONFRONTED    BY    A    MYSTERY 

Before  they  threw  themselves  upon  their 
tempting  beds  of  leaves,  La  Salle  and  de  San- 
cerre  stood  side  by  side  in  the  centre  of  the 
hut  for  a  moment,  gazing  thoughtfully  at  the 
weird  tableau  that  their  slumbering  comrades 
made. 

"  The  sword  and  crucifix !"  whispered  de  San- 
cerre,  pointing  from  the  soldier  to  the  priest. 
"  Strange  allies  these,  monsieur." 

"  But  one  without  the  other  were  in  vain ! 
They  serve  together  by  the  will  of  God.  Good 
night,  Monsieur  le  Comte." 

How  long  de  Sancerre  had  slept  before  he 
was  awakened  by  a  light  touch  upon  his  shoul 
der  hs  never  knew.  It  must  have  been  a  con 
siderable  time,  for,  as  he  opened  his  reluctant 
eyes,  he  saw  that  the  moonlight  no  longer 
gleamed  in  all  quarters  of  the  hut,  but  dimly  il 
lumined  only  one  corner  thereof.  Inured  though 
he  was  to  perils  of  all  kinds,  the  Count  felt 
a  thrill  of  dismay  as  his  eyes  rested  upon  a  hid 
eous,  grinning  face  leering  at  him  from  the 
shadows  close  at  hand.  He  sat  up  hurriedly, 
uttering  no  sound,  but  fumbling  in  the  leaves 
and  grass  for  his  rapier.  A  glance  assured  him 
that  his  comrades  had  been  undisturbed  by  the 
intruder  at  his  side. 

"  Be  not  afraid,  sefior,"  whispered  a  voice  in 
11 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

broken  Spanish.  "  The  children  of  the  moon 
have  naught  to  fear  from  us." 

De  Sancerre,  to  whom  Spanish  was  like  a  na 
tive  tongue,  raised  himself  upon  his  elbow  and 
gazed  searchingly  at  the  misshapen  hag  who  had 
disturbed  his  sleep. 

"I  crave  your  pardon,"  he  murmured,  with 
the  air  of  a  courtier  addressing  a  coquette  in  the 
Salon  de  Venus,  while  the  mocking  smile  that 
his  face  so  often  wore  gleamed  in  the  half-light. 
"  Then  I  am  of  the  children  of  the  moon  ?" 

"  At  night  ye  come  from  out  the  shadows  of 
the  distant  lands,  ye  white-faced  offspring  of  your 
Queen,  the  Moon.  The  Sun,  our  God,  has  told  us 
you  would  come.  Be  not  afraid.  We  have  rare 
gifts  for  you — and  loving  hearts." 

The  harsh,  guttural  voice  in  which  the  aged 
crone  spoke  these  gentle  words  added  to  the  un 
canny  effect  of  her  wrinkled,  time-marked  face, 
peering  at  the  smiling  Frenchman  through  the 
gloom. 

"  I  bring  you  this,"  she  went  on,  still  speaking 
in  a  mongrel  Spanish  patois,  which  de  Sancerre 
found  it  difficult  to  interpret.  "  Remember  what 
I  say.  The  children  of  the  sun  send  greeting  to 
their  brothers  of  the  moon." 

She  laid  upon  the  dried  grass  of  his  bed  a  piece 
of  white  mulberry  bark,  upon  which  de  San- 
cerre's  eyes  rested  indifferently  for  an  instant. 

12 


CONFRONTED    BY    A    MYSTERY 

When  he  raised  them  again  the  hag  had  left  his 
side,  and  he  saw  her  pushing  her  way  through 
an  opening  in  the  tree-limbs  at  the  further  end 
of  the  hut.  For  an  instant  her  diminutive  body 
stopped  the  gap  in  the  wooden  wall.  Then,  from 
where  he  lay,  the  Frenchman  could  catch  a 
glimpse  of  moonbeams  on  the  river  through  the 
opening  that  she  had  made. 

For  a  moment  this  strange  visitation  affected 
de  Sancerre  unpleasantly.  Surrounded,  as  their 
little  party  was,  by  unknown  tribes  with  whom 
the  wily  Spaniards  had  had  intercourse,  the 
words  of  the  old  crone,  cordial  though  they  had 
been  in  their  way,  filled  the  Count  with  alarm. 
Furthermore,  the  ease  with  which  she  had  made 
an  undiscovered  entrance  to  their  hut  emphasized 
the  disquiet  that  he  had  begun  to  feel.  Thorough 
soldier  as  he  was,  this  seemingly  harmless  in 
vasion  of  his  leader's  quarters  became  to  his 
mind  a  more  menacing  episode  the  more  he 
weighed  it  in  all  its  bearings. 

Kising  noiselessly  from  his  resting-place,  de 
Sancerre  made  his  way  between  his  sleeping 
comrades  to  the  entrance  to  the  hut.  Stepping 
forth  into  the  white  night,  he  confronted  Chate- 
muc,  who  still  stood  motionless  in  the  same  spot 
that  he  had  occupied  when  La  Salle  and  his 
companion  had  returned  from  the  river.  The 
Mohican,  from  long  service  with  the  explorer,  had 
13 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

acquired  a  practical  knowledge  of  the  French 
tongue,  but,  as  a  general  rule,  he  made  use  of  it 
only  in  monosyllables. 

"  Chatemuc,"  said  de  Sancerre,  sternly,  "  your 
eyes  are  heavy  with  the  moonlight  or  with  sleep. 
You  keep  indifferent  guard.  Did  you  not  see 
an  aged  witch  who  even  now  stood  within  the 
hut  and  roused  me  from  my  sleep?" 

The  tall  Mohican  gazed  down  upon  the  French 
man  with  keen,  searching  eyes,  which  glowed  at 
that  moment  with  a  fire  that  proved  him  inno 
cent  either  of  treason  or  stupidity.  His  stern, 
immobile  face  gave  no  indication  of  the  astonish 
ment  which  the  Frenchman's  accusation  must 
have  caused  him. 

"  There's  nothing  stirring  but  the  river  and 
the  leaves,"  said  Chatemuc,  with  grim  emphasis, 
turning  his  shapely  head  slowly  to  sweep  the 
landscape  in  all  directions  with  eyes  for  which 
the  forest  had  no  mysteries. 

"  Ma  foi,  my  Chatemuc !  You're  as  proud 
and  stubborn  as  de  Groot,  the  Hollander.  But 
follow  me.  I'll  show  you  a  hole  that  proves 
I  dreamed  no  dream." 

De  Sancerre,  behind  whom  stalked  the  stately 
Mohican,  made  his  way  hurriedly  to  the  further 
side  of  the  hut.  Pointing  to  an  opening  between 
the  logs,  through  which  a  small  boy  might  have 
crawled,  the  Count  said  : 
U 


CONFRONTED    BY    A    MYSTERY 

"  Behold,  monsieur,  the  yawning  chasm  in  your 
reputation  as  a  sentry !  'Twould  not  admit  an 
army,  but  it  might  serve  for  a  snake." 

Chatemuc  had  fallen  upon  his  knees,  and  was 
examining  the  aperture  and  the  trampled  grass 
which  led  to  it.  Presently  he  arose  and  turned 
towards  the  Count. 

"  A  woman,"  he  muttered.  "  Small.  Light. 
Old." 

"  Fine  woodcraft,  Chatemuc !  You  read  the 
blazonry  that  crossed  the  drawbridge  with  great 
skill — after  the  castle  has  been  captured.  But 
let  it  pass.  No  harm's  been  done,  save  that  your 
pride  has  had  a  fall.  And  so  I  leave  you  to 
your  watch  again.  If  you  loved  me,  Chatemuc, 
you'd  keep  old  women  from  my  midnight  couch. 
I  fear  my  sleep  is  lost." 

Stealing  noiselessly  past  the  motionless  forms 
of  La  Salle,  the  friar,  and  the  Italian  captain, 
after  his  successful  demonstration  of  Chatemuc's 
negligence  as  a  sentinel,  de  Sancerre  approached 
his  tumbled  bed  of  leaves  with  weary  step.  A 
feeling  of  depression,  a  sudden  realization  of  the 
horrid  possibilities  that  his  environment  sug 
gested,  a  sensation  of  impotent  rebellion  at  the 
fate  that  had  hurled  him  from  the  very  centre 
of  seventeenth-century  civilization  into  the  rude 
embrace  of  a  horror- haunted  wilderness,  came 
suddenly  upon  the  vivacious  Frenchman,  mocking 

15 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

at  his  stoical  views  of  life  and  making  of  the 
satirical  tendency  of  his  mind  a  knife  with  which 
to  cut  himself. 

"  Nom  de  Dieu  /"  he  muttered,  as  he  gazed 
down  upon  the  dry  grass  and  leaves  of  his  unin 
viting  couch,  "  these  be  fine  lodgings  for  a  Count 
of  Languedoc!  At  the  worst,  with  Turenne, 
there  was  always  Versailles  at  our  rear." 

At  that  instant  his  heavy  eyes  lighted  upon 
the  slip  of  white  bark  which  his  recent  caller  had 
left  with  him  as  a  token  of  good- will.  De  San- 
cerre  bent  down  and,  grasping  the  seemingly 
meaningless  gift,  gazed  at  it  inquiringly.  To 
his  amazement,  he  made  out  in  the  darkness 
what  seemed  to  him  to  be  a  bit  of  writing, 
scratched  with  a  pointed  instrument  upon  this 
fragment  from  a  mulberry  bush.  Hastily,  stealth 
ily,  making  his  way  to  the  opening  through 
which  the  donor  of  the  gift  had  forced  her  exit, 
the  Count  leaned  forward,  and  in  the  moonlight 
read,  with  wondering  eyes,  the  name  : 

Julia  de  Aquilar 

It  was  the  name  of  the  woman  for  love  of 
whom  he  had  killed  a  Spaniard  and  lost  his  na 
tive  land.  Instantly  his  mind  harked  back  to  the 
confession  that,  but  an  hour  or  so  before,  he  had 
poured  into  the  ears  of  Sieur  de  la  Salle.  Had 
an  eavesdropper  overheard  his  words,  and,  in  a 
16 


CONFRONTED    BY    A    MYSTERY 

spirit  of  mischief,  sought  to  tease  him  by  a  trick  ? 
He  rejected  the  supposition  at  once,  for  the  con 
viction  came  upon  him,  increasing  a  thousandfold 
the  consternation  which  he  felt,  that  he  had  de 
liberately  refrained  from  mentioning  the  name 
of  his  inamorata  to  La  Salle. 

De  Sancerre  drew  himself  erect  and  stood  mo 
tionless  for  a  moment,  the  most  amazed  and 
startled  being  in  all  that  strange  new  world. 


CHAPTER  III 

IN   WHICH    A    MAIDEN    SHOWS    HER    HEART 

SIEUR  DE  LA  SALLE'S  temporary  stockade  had 
been  erected  upon  the  western  bank  of  the  great 
river,  and  his  followers  had  received  with  de 
light  the  report  that  their  leader  had  decided  to 
indulge  in  a  few  days  of  recuperation  before  con 
tinuing  his  journey  to  the  gulf.  After  weeks  of 
labor  at  the  paddles,  the  canoemen  Avere  in  sore 
need  of  rest.  The  party  consisted  of  twenty- 
three  Frenchmen,  eighteen  Indians — Abenakis 
and  Mohicans — ten  squaws,  and  three  pappooses. 
Discontent  and  even  open  grumbling  had  already 
developed  in  this  incongruous  assemblage,  and  it 
was  only  the  stern,  imperious  personality  of  de 
la  Salle  that  had  saved  the  expedition  from  fall 
ing  asunder  through  the  inherent  antagonisms  of 
the  elements  of  which  it  was  composed. 

But  upon  the  morning  following  the  Count  de 
Sancerre's  receipt  of  an  inexplicable  gift  from 
the  children  of  the  sun  there  reigned  an  air  of 
gayety  in  the  camp.  Provisions  were  plentiful, 
the  terminus  of  the  exploration,  it  was  rumored, 
18 


A    MAIDEN    SHOWS    HER    HEART 

was  near  at  hand,  and,  for  the  next  few  days,  at 
least,  no  exhausting  task,  no  menacing  danger 
seemed  likely  to  annoy  the  adventurers.  The 
glories  of  early  spring  upon  the  lower  Mississippi 
met  their  wondering  and  grateful  eyes.  In  his 
delight  the  Frenchman  carolled  forth  a  chanson 
to  greet  the  rising  sun,  while  his  phlegmatic 
comrade,  the  native  American,  grunted  with  sat 
isfaction  as  he  reclined  upon  the  long  grass  and 
appeared  to  muse  indolently  upon  the  strange 
vivacity  of  the  men  from  oversea. 

Shortly  after  dawn  de  Sancerre,  pale,  heav}r- 
eyed,  restless,  weary  of  his  vain  efforts  to  gain  a 
dreamless  sleep,  had  wandered  away  from  the 
camp  and  thrown  himself  listlessly  down  upon 
the  gently  sloping  shore  of  the  river,  across 
whose  ripples  flashed  the  gleaming  arrows  of 
the  April  sun.  As  he  lay  there,  reclining  against 
a  slender  tree-trunk,  the  last  few  hours  seemed 
to  him  to  have  been  a  long  nightmare,  through 
which  the  mocking  black  eyes  of  a  woman  of 
wondrous  beauty  had  taunted  him  for  his  help 
lessness. 

As  de  Sancerre,  refreshed  by  the  cool  breeze 
that  chased  the  sunbeams  across  the  flood,  re 
called  every  detail  of  his  recent  adventure,  he 
found  himself  confronted  not  only  by  a  mystery, 
but  by  a  choice  between  two  courses  of  action 
which  must  be  made  at  once.  Should  he  tell  his 
19 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

comrades  of  the  strange  episode  that  had  dis 
turbed  his  rest,  or  should  he  keep  the  secret  to 
himself,  trusting  to  Chatemuc's  pride  and  reti 
cence  to  repress  the  story  of  the  night?  In  a 
certain  sense  he  was  under  obligations  to  de  la 
Salle  to  keep  him  informed  of  every  happening 
which,  even  remotely,  might  affect  the  welfare 
of  the  expedition.  On  the  other  hand,  there  was 
that  in  his  leader's  personality  which  caused  de 
Sancerre  to  hesitate  before  telling  him  a  tale 
which,  he  reflected,  would  sound  like  the  ravings 
of  a  lunatic.  He  could  picture  the  cold,  disdain 
ful  glance  in  de  la  Salle's  searching  eye  ere  he 
turned  upon  his  heel  with  the  curt  remark  that 
the  Count  de  Sancerre's  dreams  should  test  the 
friar's  skill. 

To  the  Count,  thus  vexed  by  a  most  disturbing 
problem,  came  Katonah,  sister  of  Chatemuc,  the 
only  Indian  maiden  in  Sieur  de  la  Salle's  strange 
ly-assorted  suite.  With  the  most  punctilious 
courtesy  de  Sancerre  sprang  erect,  removed  from 
his  head  his  travel -worn  but  still  picturesque 
bonnet,  and,  making  a  sweeping  bow,  pointed  to 
the  grass-grown  seat  that  he  had  just  vacated. 

"  Mademoiselle  Katonah,  I  bid  you  welcome ! 
I  was  dreaming,  petite^  of  the  land  across  the 
sea.  Your  eyes  and  smile  shall  change  my 
mood  again." 

The  Indian  girl  gazed  at  the  Frenchman  with 
20 


A  MAIDEN  SHOWS  HER  HEART 

dark,  fearless  eyes,  in  which  there  gleamed  a 
light  that  told  the  courtier  a  tale  he  had  no 
wish  to  learn.  Not  that  the  Count  was  better 
than  his  age,  more  scrupulous  than  the  pleasure- 
loving  court  in  which  his  youth  had  been  passed, 
but  in  the  freer,  nobler  atmosphere  of  this  brave 
New  "World,  and  in  the  companionship  of  men 
striving  in  the  midst  of  peril  to  do  great  deeds, 
all  that  was  most  admirable  in  de  Sancerre's 
character  had  been  born  anew,  and,  to  his  own 
amazement,  he  had  learned  that  his  views  of  life 
had  undergone  a  change,  that  there  had  grown 
up  something  in  his  soul  which  gave  the  lie  to 
his  scoffing  tongue,  still  from  habit  the  tongue  of 
a  mondain  fashioned  in  an  evil  school. 

Katonah,  reclining  against  the  tree  and  gazing 
upward  at  the  Frenchman,  formed  a  deep-toned 
picture  becoming  to  that  land  of  hazy  sunlight, 
drowzy  zephyrs,  and  opening  flowers,  bright- 
hued  and  redolent  of  spring.  Her  dark  eyes, 
clear-cut  features,  and  white,  even  teeth,  her 
slender,  supple  limbs,  satisfied  even  the  exacting 
eye  of  a  man  who  had  looked  with  admiration 
upon  La  Yalliere,  de  Montespan,  de  Maintenon. 

"  The  land  across  the  sea!"  exclaimed  Katonah, 
waving  a  slender,  well-turned  hand  toward  the 
opposite  shore  of  the  great  river.  "  You  would 
go  back  to  it?""  She  had  learned  the  French 
tongue  from  her  brother,  Chaternuc. 
21 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

Her  eloquent  eyes  rested  questioningly  upon 
the  pallid,  symmetrical  face  of  de  Sancerre. 

The  barbaric  directness  of  her  question  brought 
a  smile  to  the  Frenchman's  lips  as  he  threw 
himself  down  by  her  side  and  took  her  hand  in 
his. 

"  Mayhap  some  day  I  shall  go  back,  ma  petite. 
But  at  this  moment  I  have  no  wish  to  go." 

De  Sancerre  was  looking  at  Katonah,  but  in 
his  mind  was  the  picture  of  a  scrap  of  white 
bark  upon  which  had  been  scrawled  the  name  of 
the  only  woman  his  heart  had  ever  loved.  Per 
haps  Katonah  weighed  his  words  at  their  real 
worth,  for  she  withdrew  her  hand  from  his, 
while  her  gentle  eyes  rested  mournfully  upon 
the  mighty  river  upon  whose  bosom  she  had 
learned  the  joy  and  sorrow  of  a  hopeless  love. 

De  Sancerre,  whose  delicately -moulded  face, 
graceful  figure,  ready  wit,  and  quick  perceptions, 
added  to  high  birth  and  a  reputation  for  physical 
courage,  had  made  him  a  favorite  at  a  voluptuous 
court,  felt  a  mixture  of  self-satisfaction  and  an 
noyance  at  the  unsought  homage  that  he  had 
won  from  this  handsome  savage.  No  coquette 
at  Versailles  could  have  put  into  artful  words 
the  flattery  that  Katonah  gave  him  by  a  glance. 
But  de  Sancerre  realized  that,  under  existing 
circumstances,  her  devotion  to  him  might  involve 
them  both  in  serious  peril.  Her  brother,  Chate- 
22 


A  MAIDEN  SHOWS  HER  HEART 

muc,  was  a  sentry  whose  eyes  and  ears  would 
not  always  be  blind  and  deaf  to  what  was  stir 
ring  besides  the  river  and  the  leaves. 

"  Katonah,"  said  the  Count,  presently,  "  let  me 
tell  you  why  I  may  never  go  back  to  the  land 
beyond  the  sea." 

The  Indian  girl  gazed  up  at  him  with  earnest 
attention. 

"  To  the  great  wigwam  of  the  king  who  rules 
all  kings  there  came  a  maiden  from  a  distant 
land.  Her  eyes  were  like  the  night,  her  hair  the 
color  of  a  raven's  wing." 

De  Sancerre  met  Katonah's  eyes  and  remained 
silent  for  a  time.  There  was  something  in  her 
glance  that  chilled  him  for  the  moment  with  an 
inexplicable  foreboding.  Annoyed  at  his  weak 
ness,  he  went  on : 

"  All  men  loved  her,  ma  petite,  and  so  it  was 
not  strange  that  I—  Mais  rfimporte.  Among 
the  braves,  Katonah,  who  followed  in  her  train 
was  a  youth  with  evil  eye,  a  black,  soft-footed, 
proud,  and  boastful  man,  to  whom  her  word  was 
sworn." 

"  You  killed  him,  then,"  said  Katonah,  with 
conviction. 

De    Sancerre    started    nervously    and    gazed 
around  him  searchingly.    There  was  an  uncan 
ny  precipitancy  in  Katonah's  mental  methods 
which  affected  him  unpleasantly. 
23 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

"Yes,"  he  acknowledged.  "I  killed  him, 
Katonah." 

"  And  the  maiden  with  the  raven  hair  ?  You 
carried  her  away?" 

"No,  Katonah.  I  came  across  the  sea  and 
left  her  there." 

The  eyes  of  the  Mohican  wore  a  puzzled  ex 
pression  as  she  tried  to  read  his  face. 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  she  murmured,  pres 
ently. 

De  Sancerre  remained  silent  for  a  while.  He 
realized  that,  with  the  limited  vocabulary  at  his 
disposal,  he  could  not  make  the  Indian  girl  com 
prehend  the  exigencies  which,  in  a  civilized  land, 
might  arise  to  drive  a  lover  from  his  loved  one's 
side.  The  mind  of  the  savage  maiden  was  un 
fitted  to  grasp  those  finer  distinctions  which 
made  the  habits  and  customs  at  Versailles  so 
superior  to  the  methods  and  manners  prevailing 
among  her  Mohican  kindred.  Presently  the  ex 
patriated  courtier  said : 

"  Katonah,  let  me  tell  you  a  strange  tale. 
Your  brother  kept  guard  last  night  between  the 
river  and  our  hut.  But  while  we  slept  an  aged 
woman  crept  up  beside  my  bed  and  gave  me  this." 

De  Sancerre  removed  from  his  breast  the  piece 
of  mulberry  bark  upon  which  rested  the  name  of 
Julia  de  Aquilar.  Katonah  gazed  at  the  writing 
awe-struck. 

24 


A    MAIDEN    SHOWS    HER    HEART 

"  It  is  the  name,"  said  the  Frenchman,  in  an 
swer  to  her  glance,  "  of  the  woman  with  the  raven 
hair." 

The  Indian  girl,  with  marvellous  grace  and 
agility,  sprang  to  her  feet.  Motionless  she  stood 
for  a  moment  looking  down  at  de  Sancerre. 

"  She  followed  you  across  the  sea?"  she  asked, 
in  a  dull,  passionless  voice. 

De  Sancerre  smiled  as  he  slipped  the  bark 
into  his  doublet  and  rose  to  a  standing  posture. 

"  That  could  not  be,  Katonah,"  he  said,  light 
ly.  "  I  think  some  wizard,  making  medicine, 
has  read  her  name  upon  my  heart." 

More  he  might  have  said,  but  at  that  instant 
Chatemuc,  with  stormy  brow,  stood  beside  them. 
Not  glancing  at  the  Frenchman,  his  angry  gaze 
rested  upon  the  shrinking  figure  of  Katonah. 
With  an  imperious  gesture  he  pointed  towards 
the  camp,  and,  as  the  girl  hurried  away  in  obedi 
ence  to  her  brothers  silent  behest,  de  Sancerre 
threw  himself  wearily  upon  the  bank,  a  mocking 
light  gleaming  in  his  eyes  as  he  turned  and 
watched  the  retreating  Mohicans  until  they  were 
lost  to  sight  behind  the  osier-trees. 


CHAPTER  IV 

IN    WHICH    DE    LA    SALLE    REACHES    A    FATEFUL 
DECISION 

"  I  HAVE  heard  it  said  that  the  good  Father  le 
Jeune,  the  Jesuit,  not  speaking  Algonquin,  was 
obliged  to  expound  the  mysteries  of  the  faith  to 
the  Montagnais  through  the  aid  of  a  blasphemous 
backslider,  far  gone  in  liquor.  This  tool  of  Sa 
tan  put  vile  words  into  the  mouth  of  the  Jesuit, 
so  that  the  Montagnais  laughed  mockingly  while 
le  Jeune  fondly  thought  that  he  was  explaining 
to  them  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity." 

Henri  de  Tonti,  Zenobe  Membre,  and  Sieur  de 
la  Salle  had  joined  the  Count  de  Sancerre,  after 
the  departure  of  Chatemuc  and  Katonah,  arid 
the  quartet  had  formed  itself  for  the  time  being 
into  a  council,  to  answer  at  once  an  insistent  and 
momentous  question.  Two  white-robed  envoys, 
carrying  a  disk  of  burnished  copper  to  represent 
the  sun,  had  entered  La  Salle's  hut  an  hour  be 
fore  this,  bringing  to  him  an  invitation  to  visit, 
with  his  followers,  the  city  of  their  chief.  Henri 
de  Tonti,  enthusiastic  lay  proselyter  though  he 
26 


A    FATEFUL    DECISION 

was,  had  taken  the  ground  that  an  expedition  to 
the  haunts  of  the  sun- worshippers  would  result 
in  nothing  more  valuable  than  a  waste  of  time 
and  energy,  while  it  might  involve  the  party  in 
unforeseen  dangers.  To  check  the  enthusiasm 
of  the  Franciscan  friar,  who  longed  to  convert 
these  friendly  idolaters  to  the  true  faith,  de 
Tonti  had  just  been  calling  the  attention  of  the 
council  to  the  difficulties  besetting  a  mission 
ary  who  attempted  to  explain  the  teachings  of 
Mother  Church  in  a  tongue  with  which  he  was 
not  thoroughly  conversant. 

The  slender,  white -faced  friar,  whose  great 
physical  endurance  was  suggested  by  nothing  in 
his  outward  seeming  but  the  clear,  steady  gleam 
in  his  large  gray  eyes,  turned,  rather  impatient 
ly,  from  the  Italian  adventurer  and  put  forth  an 
appealing  palm  towards  Sieur  de  la  Salle,  who  lay 
at  full  length  upon  the  bank,  his  head  resting 
upon  his  upturned  hand,  as  he  listened  atten 
tively  to  the  debate  between  the  soldier  and  the 
priest. 

"  There  is  much  efficacy  in  signs,  monsieur," 
exclaimed  Membre,  with  fervor.  "  Could  I  have 
led  a  thousand  redmen  to  a  knowledge  of  the 
truth  had  I  always  waited  for  an  alien  tongue  ? 
"When  all  seemed  lost,  when  their  ears  were 
deaf,  when  my  prayers  and  hymns  were  but  the 
feeble  strivings  of  a  voice  they  would  not  heed, 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

has  come  a  miracle,  vouchsafed  by  Jesus  Christ, 
and  howling  savages  have  fallen  prone  in  peni 
tence  before  the  cross.  I  ask  not  much  of  you, 
monsieur,  but  in  the  name  of  Mother  Church  I 
era  7e  an  escort  to  these  children  of  the  sun.  To 
pass  them  by,  to  leave  them  hopeless  in  their 
blind  idolatry,  to  say  no  word  to  bring  them  to 
the  faith — Mother  of  God,  but  this  would  be  a 
sin!" 

The  delicate  face  of  the  Franciscan  glowed 
with  the  fervor  of  his  soul.  He  had  drawn  him 
self  up  to  his  full  height,  and  his  rich,  penetrat 
ing  voice  echoed  weirdly  across  the  gleaming 
waters  of  the  flood. 

De  la  Salle  put  up  his  hand  with  a  gesture 
seemingly  intended  to  calm  the  exuberance  of 
the  devoted  priest.  Turning  to  de  Sancerre, 
who  was  seated  on  his  right,  he  said : 

"What  think  you,  Monsieur  le  Comte?  Shall 
we  risk  a  visit  to  these  children  of  the  sun  ?" 

"  Mais  oui,  'monsieur.  There  is  no  other 
course.  If  they  should  take  offence  at  our  neg 
lect — mafoi,  it  might  go  hard  with  us." 

A  scornful  smile  played  across  de  Tonti's 
scarred  and  rugged  face.  He  was  annoyed  at 
his  failure  to  prevent  the  delay  which  this  ap 
parently  useless  visit  to  a  pagan  tribe  would  en 
gender.  De  Sancerre  observed  the  satirical  ex 
pression  upon  the  Italian's  countenance,  but 
28 


A    FATEFUL    DECISION 

wisely  refrained  from  giving  voice  to  the  anger 
which  he  felt  at  the  sight.  Between  de  Tonti 
and  de  Sancerre  a  national  antagonism  had  been 
intensified  by  the  jealousy  existing  between  them 
regarding  the  attitude  of  their  leader.  The  e^i- 
dent  fondness  shown  by  de  la  Salle  for  the  com 
panionship  of  the  itinerant  French  nobleman 
had  displeased  the  Italian  veteran,  whose  long 
years  of  devotion  to  the  explorer's  service  had 
begotten  a  claim  to  special  consideration.  In 
more  highly  civilized  surroundings  the  friction 
between  de  Tonti  and  de  Sancerre  would  long 
ao-o  have  found  relief  in  bloodshed.  One  strik- 

O 

ing  difference  between  Versailles  and  the  wilder 
ness  lay  in  the  fact  that  in  the  latter  greater 
provocation  was  needed  to  impel  men  to  run 
each  other  through  with  steel  than  in  the  parks 
in  which  gay  courtiers  insulted  one  another  with 
soft  words. 

"  Furthermore,  monsieur,"  went  on  de  San 
cerre,  observing  that  his  words  had  not  impelled 
de  la  Salle  to  come  to  an  immediate  decision  re 
garding  the  question  at  issue  —  "  furthermore, 
there  may  be  a  way  to  find  an  interpreter  through 
whom  these  lost  idolaters  shall  learn  the  teach 
ings  of  our  faith."  If  there  sounded  a  note  of 
insincerity  in  the  Frenchman's  voice,  none  marked 
it  save  de  Tonti,  whose  smile  was  always  satirical 
when  de  Sancerre  touched  upon  the  Church. 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

"  Your  words,  Monsieur  le  Comte,  mean  much 
or  nothing.  Explain  yourself,"  said  de  la  Salle, 
coldly. 

"  Did  you  notice  at  the  further  end  of  yonder 
hut  a  hole  through  which  a  good-sized  dog  might 
crawl?"  asked  de  Sancerre,  impressively,  arising 
and  pointing  toward  the  camp. 

"  Sieur  de  la  Salle  has  eyes  for  everything, 
Monsieur  le  Comte,"  remarked  de  Tonti,  taunt- 


Paying  no  attention  to  his  rival,  de  Sancerre 
went  on  : 

"  Through  that  hole  last  night  there  crept  into 
the  hut  an  aged  hag,  who,  coming  to  my  side, 
gave  us  a  welcome  from  the  children  of  the  sun. 
They  call  us  —  as  you  know  —  the  children  of  the 
moon." 

De  la  Salle,  calm,  phlegmatic,  but  ever  on  the 
alert,  gazed  searchingly  at  the  speaker. 

"  Your  tale  is  somewhat  late,  monsieur,"  he 
remarked,  meaningly. 

"  I  feared  the  gossip  of  an  idle  camp,"  said 
de  Sancerre,  lightly,  carelessly  tossing  a  pebble 
into  the  rippling  waters  at  his  feet.  "  The  mat 
ter's  not  of  moment  but  for  this  :  the  old  crone 
spoke  a  Spanish  patois,  hard  to  understand,  but 
not  impossible.  Her  tongue,  I  think,  might  serve 
our  friar  well." 

"  A  Spanish  patois  ?"  repeated  de  la  Salle, 
30 


A    FATEFUL    DECISION 

musingly.  "  Tis  well  you  spoke  of  this,  Monsieur 
le  Comte.  I  told  the  keen -eyed  Colbert  that 
there  was  no  time  to  loss.  Below,  around  us  lie 
the  lands  of  gold,  and  stretched  across  them  rests 
the  arm  of  Spain.  The  time  has  come  when  we 
must  lop  it  off." 

De  la  Salle  had  arisen  and,  with  his  hand  upon 
the  hilt  of  his  sword,  gazed  toward  the  waters 
which  flowed  toward  a  Spanish  sea.  He  looked, 
for  the  moment,  the  very  incarnation  of  the  mar 
tial  spirit  of  an  adventurous  age,  bidding  defiance 
to  a  mighty  foe.  Suddenly  he  turned  and  eyed 
his  followers  sternly.  In  a  voice  which  admit 
ted  of  no  reply,  he  said  : 

"  De  Tonti,  de  Sancerre,  and  Membre,  prepare 
to  set  out  at  once  to  these  people  of  the  sun. 
I'll  give  you  presents  for  their  chiefs  and  wives. 
Send  Chatemuc  to  me.  He  shall  go  with  you, 
and  his  sister — Katonah,  is  it  not?  She'll  find 
the  woman  with  the  Spanish  tongue  where  you, 
as  men,  might  fail." 

"  But,"  exclaimed  de  Sancerre,  springing  to 
his  feet,  "  there  may  be  peril  for  the  girl  in  this. 
'Tis  best  we  go  alone." 

"  I  am  amazed,  Monsieur  le  Comte,"  remark 
ed  La  Salle,  sternly.  "  Obey  my  orders !  'Tis 
not  for  you  to  question  what  I  plan.  What 
ever  comes  of  this,  the  blame  shall  rest  with 


81 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

De  Tonti,  Membre,  and  cle  Sancerre  had  turned 
to  make  their  way  hurriedly  back  to  the  camp. 

"  De  Sancerre,"  called  La  Salle,  ere  they  had 
gone  beyond  ear -shot.  The  French  nobleman 
returned  hurriedly  to  his  leader's  side. 

"  There  is  no  danger  to  Katonah  in  all  this," 
said  La  Salle,  meaningly,  his  eyes  reading  de 
Sancerre's  face.  "  No  harm  can  come  to  her,  for 
Chatemuc  is  ever  by  her  side.  No  nobleman  in 
Spain  or  France  is  prouder,  de  Sancerre,  than 
Chatemuc.  You  understand  me  ?" 

"  Mafoij  I  am  not  dull,  monsieur !"  exclaimed 
the  Count,  a  note  of  anger  in  his  voice.  Then 
he  turned  on  his  heel  and  strode  rapidly  toward 
the  camp. 


CHAPTER  V 


IN    WHICH    A    DAUGHTER    GRANTS     A    FATHER'S     WISH 


LATE  in  the  afternoon  of  a  day  in  April,  just 
one  year  before  the  date  of  the  occurrences  re 
corded  in  the  foregoing  chapters  of  this  tale,  Don 
Rodrigo  de  Aquilar,  statesman,  soldier,  scholar, 
devout  Catholic,  sat  at  a  curiously-carved  table  in 
the  library  of  his  ancestral  house  in  the  street  of 
Las  Palmas,  Seville.  His  gray  hair  and  pointed 
beard,  his  keen,  dark  eyes  and  lofty  brow,  the 
simple  elegance  of  his  attire,  and  the  artistic 
luxury  of  his  surroundings  combined  to  form  a 
striking  picture  in  the  half-lights  of  the  waning 
day.  Upon  the  table  before  him  lay  pompous 
tomes,  quaint  old  manuscripts,  and  several  crude 
maps  and  charts. 

Copies  of  the  letters  of  Menendez  to  Philip  II. 
of  Spain,  made  by  Don  Rodrigo  in  the  archives 
of  Seville;  a  transcript  of  the  bull  "by  the  au 
thority  whereof  Pope  Alexander,  the  sixth  of 
that  name,  gave  and  granted  to  the  Kings  of 
Castile  and  their  successors  the  regions  and 
islands  found  in  the  west  ocean  sea  by  the  navi- 
c  33 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

gallons  of  the  Spaniards ;"  a  reproduction  of  a 
map  of  the  western  world,  dedicated  to  Sir  Philip 
Sidney  by  Michael  Lok ;  a  volume  entitled  Hak- 
luyt's  Divers  Voyages,  hot  with  hatred  of  the 
Spanish,  and  other  misleading  data  concerning  a 
misunderstood  continent  confronted  the  Castilian 
aristocrat,  and  by  their  united  efforts  cast  upon 
him  a  spell  which  had  brought  to  his  thin  cheeks 
a  hectic  flush,  and  to  his  haughty  lips  lines  of 
determination. 

It  was,  however,  with  a  much  later  manuscript 
than  any  one  of  those  above  mentioned  that  Don 
Rodrigo  was  engaged  at  the  moment  of  which 
we  write.  Bending  eagerly  forward  from  a 
quaintly-cut,  high-backed  chair,  the  aged  Span 
iard  was  scanning  attentively  a  parchment  upon 
which  a  recent  explorer,  with  artistic  tendencies, 
had  inscribed  a  pictorial  outline  of  his  discoveries. 
Ports,  harbors,  islands,  and  rivers  competed  for 
the  attention  of  the  observer  with  rudely  outlined 
birds,  beasts,  and  fishes.  Indians  feasting  and 
dancing,  Indians  flogged  by  priests,  Indians  burn 
ing  alive  for  heresy,  gave  grim  testimony  to  the 
fact  that  the  eccentric  cartographer  had  wit 
nessed  sympathetically  the  saving  of  souls  in  the 
New  World.  It  was  not  upon  these,  however, 
nor  upon  the  chameleon  with  two  legs  confront 
ing  a  bat-winged  griffin  having  the  tail  of  an  alli 
gator — a  weird  product,  according  to  the  map- 
34 


A    FATHER'S    WISH    GRANTED 

maker,  of  Mexico — that  Don  Rodrigo  de  Aquilar 
was  squandering  the  retreating  light  of  day. 
His  eyes  and  mind  rested  upon  a  sketch  rep 
resenting  a  group  of  Indians  working  silver 
mines. 

"  Methinks,  Juan,  the  venture's  worth  the  risk. 
Were  it  not  for  Dona  Julia,  I'd  slip  my  anchor 
of  old  age  and  sail  across  the  sea.  I  have  no  mind 
to  place  the  King's  gift  in  an  agent's  hands,  to 
let  him  rob  the  Mexicans  and  me." 

Don  Rodrigo  had  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and 
was  gazing  across  the  disordered  table  at  a  pale, 
dark-eyed  youth,  attired  in  black  velvet,  whose 
thin,  nervous  hand  had  been  making  a  copy  of 
letters  -  patent  from  Charles  of  Spain  to  his 
Majesty's  "  dear  beloved  son  in  Christ,  Don  Rod- 
rigo  de  Aquilar."  Juan  Rodriquez,  secretary  to 
Don  Rodrigo,  was  a  lineal  descendant  of  a  mari- 
nero  of  Seville  who  had  returned  safely  to  his 
native  city  after  circumnavigating  the  globe  with, 
Magellan.  Of  this  same  marinero  it  had  been 
written  that  he  was  "  energetic,  courageous,  but 
marvellous  unprincipled." 

"  I  have  heard  Dofia  Julia  say,  senor,"  re 
marked  Juan  in  a  softly  modulated  voice — "  I 
have  heard  her  say,  within  the  last  few  cla^ys, 
that  she  would  be  glad  to  see  those  strange 
lands  over-sea,  where  palaces  are  made  of  gold 
and  pearls  grow  upon  the  trees." 

35 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

A  grim  smile  played  across  the  haughty  coun 
tenance  of  the  old  statesman. 

"An  idle  whim  begot  of  idle  tales,  young  man ! 
But  were  I  sure  that  sufferings  and  danger  would 
not  beset  our  ship,  I'd  take  the  girl  and  look 
upon  my  grant  before  I  die.  'Twill  be  her  heri 
tage  at  last.  But,  look  you,  Juan  !  These  blind 
cartographers  have  dealt  in  fancies  tempting 
men  to  death.  Somewhere  beneath  the  soil  of 
yonder  fatal  land  lie  my  two  sons  —  and  in  my 
death  a  famous  name  must  die.  And  I  am  old. 
They'd  say  at  court,  should  I  set  sail  from  here, 
that  his  Majesty's  rich  gifts  had  made  me  mad 
at  last." 

There  was  silence  at  the  table  for  a  time.  Don 
Rodrigo  reclined  in  his  chair  and  watched  the 
changing  lights  and  shadows  of  the  waning  day 
as  they  emphasized  the  sombre  beauty  of  the 
room.  Presently  he  said : 

"You've  made  the  footings,  Juan?  A  hun 
dred  thousand  ducats  will  cover  everything?" 

"  And  leave  a  handsome  margin,  seilor,"  an 
swered  the  secretary,  referring  to  a  parchment 
upon  which  daintily-executed  rows  of  figures  had 
been  inscribed.  "  As  times  go,  senor,  the  vessel 
costs  you  but  a  song." 

Don  Rodrigo  eyed  Juan  Rodriquez  searching- 
ly.  His  secretary's  apparent  eagerness  for  the 
venture  mystified  him.  Diplomatist,  educated 
36 


A    FATHER'S   WISH    GRANTED 

in  a  crafty  school,  the  old  Spaniard  had  never 
lost  sight  of  the  advantages  to  be  gained  at  times 
by  frank  directness. 

"  You  are  urging  me  to  take  this  step,  Juan. 
Let  me  ask  you  why  ?" 

The  pale  face  of  the  youth  had  turned  yellow 
in  the  twilight.  His  dark,  shifty  eyes  refused  to 
meet  his  master's  insistent  gaze.  His  thin  hand 
drummed  nervously  on  the  dry,  rattling  parch 
ment  in  front  of  him  as  he  said,  with  an  attempt 
at  candor  which  did  not  ring  true: 

"  I  believe,  sefior,  that  it  would  be  well  for 
Dona  Julia,  and  for  you,  to  leave  Seville  for  a 
time.  She  mourns  Don  Josef  —  does  she  not? 
And  you,  Don  Kodrigo,  have  won  a  triumph 
in  diplomacy  that  frees  you  for  a  wThile  from 
public  life.  The  voyage  now  is  not  so  fraught 
with  danger  as  of  old,  nor  is  there  peril  when 
you  reach  New  Spain.  More  than  one  fair  lady 
of  Seville  has  been  across  and  back  for  love  of 
Mother  Church.  And,  as  I  said,  the  marvels  of 
the  sea  might  serve  to  turn  your  daughter's 
mind  from  thoughts  of  her  betrothed." 

Don  Kodrigo  gazed  earnestly  at  the  eager  face 
of  his  secretary. 

"  You  believe,  then,  Juan,  that  Dona  Julia's 
heart  was  broken  when  Don  Josef  fell,  run 
through  by  the  Frenchman's  sword  2  You  think 

she  loved  him  ?" 

37 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

"  Nay,  senor,  such  thoughts  are  not  for  me," 
answered  Juan,  in  a  voice  that  resembled  the 
purring  of  a  cat.  "  But  this  I  see — that  since  you 
returned  from  France  her  eyes  are  heavy  and 
her  cheeks  are  pale.  The  songs  she  used  to  sing 
we  hear  no  more.  She's  fading  like  a  flower 
which  craves  the  sun.  Give  her,  senor,  new 
aims,  new  scenes,  the  splendors  of  the  sea,  the 
marvels  of  New  Spain,  and  once  again  her  eyes 
and  smile  will  be  as  sunny  as  they  were  of  old." 

"  You're  wise  beyond  your  years,  young  man,'' 
remarked  the  old  diplomat,  playfully.  u  May 
hap,  my  Juan,  you  know  a  charm  to  make  me 
young  again.  Or  perhaps  you  can  find  the 
island  of  Bimini  and  the  fountain  of  eternal 
youth  which  bold  de  Leon  sought.  But,  hark, 
I  hear  her  step!  We'll  lay  the  venture,  in  all  its 
bare  simplicity,  before  her,  and  do  as  she  de 
cides." 

As  Don  Eodrigo  ceased  speaking  there  enter 
ed  the  library  a  dark-haired,  large-eyed,  graceful 
girl,  who  glided  from  the  shadows  of  the  twi 
light  toward  the  centre  of  the  room,  and  stood 
motionless  at  the  lower  end  of  the  long  table. 
A  belated  sunbeam,  stealing  through  the  distant 
window,  caressed  her  face  for  a  moment,  upon 
which  a  sad  smile  rested  as  her  eyes  met  her 
father's. 

"  You  disobey  his  Majesty's  behest,  Don  Rod- 
38 


A    FATHER'S   WISH    GRANTED 

rigo  de  Aquilar!"  she  exclaimed,  playfully,  point 
ing  toward  the  books  and  maps  before  her.  "  Did 
not  the  King  command  you  to  take  a  well-earned 
rest,  my  father  ?" 

"  But  his  Majesty  has  never  ordered  me  to  sit 
here  and  die,"  remarked  Don  Eodrigo,  emphati 
cally.  "  Be  seated,  Julia.  You  come  to  us  at  a 
most  opportune  moment.  For  my  services  in 
France  his  Majesty  has  granted  me  fair  lands 
across  the  sea.  Mines  rich  in  silver  belong  to 
me  by  virtue  of  this  seal.  The  question  is,  my 
daughter,  will  you  go  with  me  to  view  my  prov 
ince  in  New  Spain  2" 

Juan  Eodriquez,  who  had  arisen  upon  Dona 
Julia's  entrance,  stood  watching  the  girl  with 
stealthy  eyes,  in  which  there  gleamed  a  light  not 
there  before.  There  was  silence  in  the  room  for  a 
moment.  Then  Julia,  looking  Don  Eodrigo  fear 
lessly  in  the  face,  said  : 

"  I  will  go  with  you  gladly,  father.  Seville  has 
stifled  me.  But  place  no  faith  upon  my  chang 
ing  whims.  If  we're  to  go,  then  let  us  sail  at 
once." 


CHAPTER  VI 

IN  WHICH    JUAN  RODRIQUEZ  UNDERGOES  AN  UN 
PLEASANT   HALF-HOUR 

IN  the  year  1681  the  fickle  Guadalquivir  still 
pursued  a  liberal  policy  toward  Seville  and 
vouchsafed  sufficient  water  to  that  port  to  en 
able  sea-going  vessels  to  begin  or  end  their  voy- 
ages  within  sight  of  the  Alcazar.  Later  on,  the 
Spanish  sailors  were  forced,  by  the  treachery 
of  the  famous  river,  to  abandon  Seville  and  be 
take  themselves  to  Cadiz  for  an  ocean  har 
borage. 

At  the  time,  however,  at  which  Don  Rodrigo 
de  Aquilar  fitted  out  the  Conception  —  a  high- 
pooped  vessel  of  ninety  tons  burden  —  for  his 
voyage  to  the  silver  mines  bestowed  upon  him 
by  Charles  II.  of  Spain,  the  harbor  at  Seville 
enabled  the  aged  diplomat  to  equip  his  ship 
without  leaving  his  library.  By  giving  his  or 
ders  to  his  secretary,  Juan  Rodriquez,  who  car 
ried  them  to  Gomez  Hernandez,  captain  of  the 
Conception,  Don  Rodrigo  was  relieved  of  the 
friction  which  in  those  days  frequently  soured 
40 


AN    UNPLEASANT    HALF-HOUR 

an  adventurer's  disposition  even  before  he  had 
put  to  sea. 

The  necessity  for  haste,  lest  the  veering  winds 
of  Dona  Julia's  fickle  fancy  should  at  the  last 
moment  balk  her  father's  enterprise,  had  been 
impressed  upon  Juan  Rodriquez,  who  needed  no 
hint  from  Don  Rodrigo  to  make  him  a  gadfly 
to  the  captain  of  the  Conception.  Long  before 
he  weighed  anchor,  Gomez  Hernandez  had  sworn 
by  his  favorite  saint  that  if  the  opportunity  ever 
came  to  him  to  put  the  white-faced,  soft-voiced 
secretary  into  irons,  he  would  show  him  no  pity. 
That  the  perilous  voyage  before  them  might  fur 
nish  him  with  the  means  for  punishing  Juan's 
insolence  the  captain  well  knew.  Let  the  Con 
ception  toss  the  Canaries  well  astern,  and  for 
many  weeks  Gomez  Hernandez  would  be  auto 
crat  in  a  little  kingdom  of  his  own. 

Dona  Julia's  cabin  was,  as  it  were,  the  hawser 
which  held  the  clumsy  little  ship  to  her  moor 
ings.  A  stuffy  room  between  decks,  it  seemed 
cruel  to  ask  a  maiden  used  to  the  luxury  of 
Seville,  Madrid  and  Paris  to  spend  weeks  with 
in  its  irritating  confines.  Don  Rodrigo  had  de 
voted  great  energy  and  ingenuity  to  the  task  of 
making  his  daughter's  quarters  aboard  ship  less 
repulsive  than  they  had  at  first  seemed.  Rugs 
from  the  Orient,  a  hammock  made  of  padded 
silk,  jars  of  sweetmeats  from  Turkey,  a  price- 
41 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

less  oil-painting  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  and  other 
quaintly  contrasted  offshoots  of  a  fond  father's 
anxious  care  combined  to  make  Dona  Julia's 
cabin  a  compartment  whose  luxury  was  ludi 
crous  and  whose  discomfort  was  pathetic. 

Had  Don  Rodrigo  de  Aquilar  better  under 
stood  the  peculiarities  of  his  daughter's  dispo 
sition,  he  would  have  spent  less  time  in  mak 
ing  of  her  cabin  a  medieval  curiosity -shop,  and 
would  have  weighed  anchor  a  week  sooner  than 
he  did — thus  gaining  a  span  of  time  which  would 
have  begotten  across  the  sea  a  radical  difference 
in  the  outcome  of  his  expedition.  Something  of 
this  found  its  way  into  the  mind  of  the  aged 
Spaniard  after  the  Concepcion  had  cleared  the 
mouth  of  the  Guadalquivir  and  was  standing 
out  to  sea.  Beside  him  upon  the  poop-deck  stood 
Julia,  her  dark  eyes  gleaming  with  excitement 
as  they  swept  the  tumbling  sea  or  glanced  up 
ward  at  the  bulging  sails  which  drove  the  awk 
ward  craft  haltingly  across  the  deep.  She  had 
paid  little  or  no  attention  to  the  cabin  which  had 
taxed  Don  Rodrigo's  ingenuity,  Juan's  patience, 
and  Captain  Hernandez's  temper  for  a  month; 
but  the  flush  in  her  cheeks  and  the  smile  upon 
her  lips,  as  she  watched  the  waters  sweeping 
the  Old  World  away  from  her,  gladdened  her 
father's  heart  as  he  scanned  her  changing  face. 

"  The  sea  is  kind  to  us.     See  yonder  rainbow 

42 


AN    UNPLEASANT    HALF-HOUR 

'gainst  the  purple  east !  An  omen  such  as  that 
is  worth  a  candle  to  St.  Christopher." 

The  soft,  insistent  voice  of  Juan  Rodriquez 
broke  in  upon  the  musings  of  the  grandee  and 
his  daughter. 

"  'Tis  not  so  strange  the  saints  should  wish  us 
well,"  remarked  Don  Kodrigo,  removing  a  black 
velvet  cap  from  his  head  to  let  the  sea-wind  play 
with  his  white  locks.  "  We  go  to  serve  the  work 
of  Mother  Church.  To  tell  the  heathen  of  Mary 
and  her  Son,  to  raise  the  cross  where  blood- 
soaked  idols  stand,  to  fight  the  devil  with  the 
Book  and  prayer." 

"  And,  then— to  work  the  mines,"  put  in  Juan 
gently. 

Dona  Julia  turned  quickly  and  flashed  an  an 
gry  glance  at  the  soft-tongued  secretary.  She 
had  noticed,  with  annoyance,  a  change  in  Juan's 
manner  since  the  ship  had  steered  for  the  open 
sea.  In  a  way  that  defied  explanation  in  words, 
the  young  man  had  carried  himself  for  the 
past  few  hours  as  if,  upon  the  deck  of  a  ship,  he 
had  found  himself  upon  an  equality  with  his 
master.  There  was  an  elusive  sarcasm  in  his 
words  at  times,  a  defiant  gleam  in  his  restless 
eyes,  a  mocking  note  in  his  voice,  which  the  girl 
noted  with  an  inexplicable  feeling  of  foreboding. 

"Aye  —  to  work  the  mines,"  repeated  Don 
Kodrigo,  unsuspiciously.  "Why  not?  'Tis  nigh 
43 


WITH    SWORD   AND    CRUCIFIX 

two  centuries  since  treasures  from  New  Spain 
came  over-sea.  And  for  their  paltry  gold  we've 
given  them  the  cross.  For  every  ducat  gained 
by  Spain,  a  soul's  been  won  for  heaven.  Harsh 
measures  with  the  stubborn — these,  of  course. 
'Tis  thus  the  Church  must  win  its  way  on  earth. 
The  fight  is  not  yet  done.  Upon  the  border  of 
the  lands  I  own  the  good  Dominicans  have  built 
a  mission-house.  On  you,  my  daughter,  will  de 
volve  the  task  to  raise  a  great  cathedral  where  the 
friars  dwell.  I'll  dig  the  silver  from  the  ground 
for  you,  and  mayhap  from  my  place  in  paradise 
the  saints  will  give  me  eyes  to  see  the  glory  of 
your  deeds.  May  Mother  Mary  will  it  so !" 

The  old  man's  eyes  were  upturned  in  fervor 
toward  the  changing  glories  of  the  evening  sky. 
The  excitement  of  the  embarkation,  the  enliven 
ing  influence  of  the  stiff,  salt  breeze,  and  the 
mysterious  promises  held  out  to  him  by  that  se 
ductive  West  toward  which  his  vessel  plunged 
had  stirred  the  blood  in  the  aged  Spaniard's  veins, 
and  emphasized  at  the  same  moment  both  his 
religious  enthusiasm  and  his  earthly  ambitions. 

Dona  Julia  was  on  the  point  of  comment 
ing  upon  her  father's  words  when  there  sprang 
to  the  deck  from  below  a  slender,  active  man 
who,  ashore,  would  have  looked  like  a  sailor,  but 
aboard  ship  resembled  a  soldier.  Gomez  Her 
nandez,  captain  of  the  Conception,  was  the  very 
44 


AN    UNPLEASANT    HALF-HOUR 

incarnation  of  that  dauntless  spirit  which  had, 
within  the  lapse  of  two  centuries,  carried  the 
arms  of  Castile  and  Aragon  to  the  farthest  quar 
ters  of  an  astonished  globe.  Bright,  dark  eyes, 
a  cruel  mouth,  a  small,  agile,  muscular  frame, 
and  a  manner  proud  or  cringing  as  occasion  dic 
tated,  combined  to  make  of  Gomez  Hernandez  a 
typical  Spanish  seaman  of  the  seventeenth  cen 
tury.  Saluting  Don  Rodrigo  de  Aquilar  respect 
fully,  the  captain  said : 

"May  I  trouble  you,  sefior,  to  join  me  in  my 
cabin  for  a  while  ?  I  have  matters  to  lay  before 
you  which  brook  no  delay." 

Hernandez's  words  were  addressed  to  the  dip 
lomat,  but  his  piercing  eyes  rested  as  he  spoke 
upon  the  face  of  Juan  Rodriquez.  The  secre 
tary,  even  paler  than  his  wont  was,  gazed  across 
the  sea  toward  the  horizon  from  which  the 
shades  of  night  had  begun  to  creep. 

"Await  me  here,  Julia,"  said  Don  Rodrigo, 
cheerfully,  turning  to  follow  the  captain  to  the 
lower  deck.  "  I  will  return  to  you  at  once.  Lead 
on,  my  captain.  You'll  find  I  am  not  mucinous, 
no  matter  what  you  ask." 

In  another  moment  Dona  Julia  and  Juan  Rod 
riquez  stood  alone  upon  the  poop.  The  secretary 
turned  from  his  contemplation  of  the  sea  and  his 
restless  eyes  fell  full  upon  the  disturbed  face  of 
the  girl,  a  face  of  marvellous  beauty  in  the  half- 
45 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

lights  of  the  fading  day.  There  was  silence  be 
tween  them  for  a  time.  The  creaking  of  timbers, 
the  complaining  of  the  cordage,  the  angry  splash 
of  the  disturbed  sea,  and  from  the  bow  the  sub 
dued  notes  of  an  evening  hymn,  sung  by  devout 
sailors,  reached  their  ears. 

"  Senora,"  said  Juan,  moving  toward  Dona 
Julia,  "  I  have  much  to  say  to  you — and  there 
is  little  time.  If  my  words  to  you  should  seem 
abrupt,  the  blame  lies  with  my  tongue,  not  with 
my  heart.  If  that  could  speak,  you'd  find  me 
eloquent  indeed.  I— 

With  an  imperious  gesture,  Dona  Julia  checked 
his  speech.  Her  symmetrical,  somewhat  volupt 
uous,  mouth  was  curved  at  that  moment  in  a 
smile  of  disdain. 

"Spare  me— and  spare  yourself,  Juan  Rod- 
riquez,"  she  said,  coldly,  turning  her  back  to  the 
sea  and  facing  squarely  the  youth,  whose  eyes 
met  hers  with  a  glance  of  craft\^  defiance  not 
unmingled  with  an  admiration  that  filled  her 
with  loathing.  "  You  say  more  only  at  your  peril. 
I'll  forgive  you  your  presumption — once.  But 
take  good  heed  of  what  I  say.  If  you  address  me 
in  such  words  again,  it  shall  go  hard  with  37ou." 

A  grayish  pallor  overspread  Juan's  face  in  the 
twilight.  A  cruel  smile  played  across  his  thin 
lips,  and  his  hand  grasped  a  railing  at  his  side  as 
if  it  would  crush  the  stubborn  wood. 

4G 


THE    CAPTAIN    HURLED   HIM    DOWN    UPON    THE    DECK 


AN    UNPLEASANT    HALF-HOUR 

"You  threaten  me,  Dona  Julia  de  Aquilar," 
he  murmured,  showing  his  teeth  in  an  evil  smile. 
"  You  know  not  what  you  do.  See  how  our  ship 
is  driving  toward  the  murky  blackness  of  the 
"West.  Think  you  I  shall  be  powerless  beyond? 
I  say  to  you,  senora,  that  you,  your  father,  and 
all  you  hold  most  dear,  are  in  the  grasp  of  Juan 
Kodriquez— your  servant  in  Seville,  your  master 
in  New  Spain." 

He  had  seized  the  giiTs  wrist  and  was  gazing 
into  her  white  face  with  vindictive,  hungry  eyes. 
She  wrenched  her  arm  free  from  his  repellent 
grasp,  and,  drawing  herself  up  to  her  full  height, 
gazed  haughtily  at  the  boastful  youth. 
=  "What  mad  fancies  there  may  be  in  your 
mind,  Juan  Kodriquez,  I  cannot  guess.  But  this 
I  know :  if  I  should  breathe  a  word  of  what 
you've  said  into  my  father's  ears,  you'd  lie  a 
prisoner  between  the  decks.  And  he  shall  know 
of  this,  unless  you  swear  to  me  to  leave  me  to  my 
self,  to  speak  no  word  to  me,  to  keep  your  eyes 
from  off  my  face,  my  name  from  off  your  lips." 
The  threatening  smile  upon  Juan's  mobile  face 
had  changed  to  a  spiteful  grin  while  the  girl  was 
speaking. 

"  Your  love  for  Don  Kodrigo  would  be  weak, 
indeed,  should  you,  senora,  speak  a  word  of  this. 
I  tell  you,  Dona  Julia,  your  father's  in  my  grasp. 
I'll  show  him  mercy— but  I  make  my  terms  with 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

you.  'Tis  no  mad  fancy,  nor  an  idle  boast,"  went 
on  Juan,  making  a  significant  gesture  toward 
the  slashed  velvet  upon  his  breast,  "  which  you 
have  heard  from  me.  I  know  my  power.  If 
you  are  wise,  you'll  take  my  word  for  this." 

There  was  a  calm,  convincing  note  in  Juan's 
voice  that  froze  the  rising  anger  in  Dona  Julia's 
veins.  She  knew  the  crafty  nature  of  the  man 
too  well  to  believe  that  he  would  thus  threaten 
her  unless  he  had  gained  possession  of  some 
weapon  for  the  working  of  great  mischief.  In. 
mute  dismay  she  stood  for  a  moment  gazing 
helplessly  at  the  gray,  grim  waters  which  seemed 
to  yawn  in  hunger  for  the  tossing  ship.  Sud 
denly  she  felt  an  arm  around  her  waist,  and  turn 
ing  quickly  found  the  flushed  face  of  the  youth 
pressed  close  to  hers.  An  exclamation  of  min 
gled  disgust,  anger,  and  fear  escaped  her. 

At  that  instant  the  strong,  nervous  hand  of 
Gomez  Hernandez  seized  Juan  Kodriquez  by  the 
neck.  With  an  ease  which  his  slight  figure  ren 
dered  marvellous,  the  captain  twisted  the  youth 
like  a  plaything  in  his  grasp,  and  then  hurled 
him,  full  length,  prone  upon  the  deck. 

"  I  crave  your  pardon,  sefiora,"  said  Hernan 
dez,  with  cool  politeness,  bowing  low  to  Dona 
Julia,  "  but  Don  Rodrigo  requests  your  presence 
in  his  cabin." 


CHAPTER  VII 

IN   WHICH    JUAN   RODRIQTJEZ    TAKES    HIS    REVENGE 

THE  voyage  of  the  Conception,  thus  inauspi- 
ciously  begun,  continued  with  fair  weather  upon 
the  sea  and  squalls  threatening  aboard  the  ship. 
Doiia  Julia  spent  much  time  in  her  oddly-equipped 
cabin;  Don  Rodrigo,  impatient  of  delay,  fretted 
at  the  tedium  of  the  passage  and  paced  the  poop 
restlessly  for  hours  at  a  time.  Between  Juan 
Rodriquez  and  Captain  Hernandez  a  sullen  truce 
was  maintained  for  several  weeks  succeeding  the 
incident  recorded  at  the  end  of  the  foregoing 
chapter.  But  Juan  had  neither  forgotten  nor 
forgiven  the  insult  which  he  had  received  at  the 
hands  of  the  relentless  navigator.  He  awaited, 
with  the  patience  of  a  crafty  schemer,  an  oppor 
tunity  to  avenge  himself  upon  the  man  who  had 
turned  his  melodramatic  declaration  of  love  into 
an  undignified  farce. 

A  Carmelite  friar,  who  had  begged  passage  to 
Hispaniola  from  Don  Rodrigo,  discovered,  after 
a  time,  a  radical  change  in  the  disposition  mani 
fested  by  the  heterogeneous  crew  toward  his 
D  49 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

white  frock  and  all  that  it  represented.  In  so 
far  as  the  discipline  of  Captain  Hernandez  per 
mitted  open  grumbling,  the  sailors  grew  out 
spoken  in  their  protests.  The  good  priest,  who 
had  found  the  crew  devoted  to  their  beads  at  the 
outset  of  the  voyage,  was  unable,  as  the  weeks 
went  by,  to  persuade  the  sailors  to  put  their 
grievance  into  words.  Nor  was  he  able  to  keep 
them  at  their  prayers  or  to  lead  their  voices  in 
quaint  old  Latin  hymns.  There  was  in  the  ship 
a  mysterious,  elusive  influence  which  had  con 
vinced  the  impressionable,  superstitious  seamen 
that  the  vessel  was  accursed  and  that  somebody 
aboard  ship,  being  in  league  with  Satan,  was  able 
to  nullify  the  effects  of  their  religious  observ 
ances.  Thus  it  was  that  the  sweet-faced  Carmel 
ite  labored  in  vain  to  restore  before  the  mast  the 
devout  atmosphere  which  had  prevailed  among 
the  crew  while  the  coast  of  Spain  still  lay  but  a 
few  miles  astern. 

Matters  grew  worse  aboard  the  Conception 
after  the  white  friar  had  been  put  ashore  at  the 
Indies  and  the  clumsy  vessel  had  begun  to  beat 
up  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  against  baffling  head 
winds.  The  sailors  whispered  to  each  other  that 
the  desertion  of  the  Carmelite  had  left  the  Prince 
of  Darkness  in  full  control  of  the  ship.  To  a 
crew  composed  in  large  part  of  Spanish  despera 
does,  with  a  sprinkling  of  Portuguese  cutthroats, 

50 


RODRIQUEZ    TAKES    HIS    REVENGE 

it  was  not  easy  to  restore  an  atmosphere  of  relig 
ious  fervor  after  it  had  once  been  destroyed  by 
evil  tongues.  Experienced  as  he  was  in  the 
fickleness  of  the  half-savage  sailors  who  in  those 
adventurous  days  manned  the  omnipresent  ships 
of  Spain,  Captain  Hernandez  witnessed  with 
grave  concern  the  gradual  abandonment  by  his 
crew  of  its  religious  attitude  and  the  increasing 
tendency  of  the  sailors  to  imply,  either  by  word 
or  manner,  that  Mary  and  the  saints  had  aban 
doned  the  ship  to  a  cruel  fate. 

To  Julia  de  Aquilar  the  voyage  had  become  a 
seemingly  interminable  imprisonment.  The  ela 
tion  which  she  had  felt  at  the  outset  of  the  cruise 
had  never  returned  to  her  after  the  depressing 
episode  which  had  aroused  in  Juan  Rodriquez  a 
deadly  hatred  for  the  captain  of  the  ship.  The 
girl  had  caught  the  gleam  of  murder  in  the  sec 
retary's  eyes  as  he  lay  out-stretched  upon  the 
deck  gazing  upward  at  Gomez  Hernandez,  and 
in  her  cabin,  as  she  tossed  restlessly  in  her  ham 
mock,  her  mind  grew  sick  with  a  foreboding 
which  waxed  more  insistent  as  the  weary  days 
and  nights  crept  by.  Now  and  then  she  would 
climb  the  clumsy  ladder  to  walk  the  deck  for 
a  while,  but  the  dread  of  finding  herself  again 
alone  with  Juan  Rodriquez  made  her  shy  of  this 
diversion.  Don  Rodrigo,  whose  spirits  rose 
higher  the  nearer  the  ship  approached  the  land 

51 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

in  which  his  silver  lay  concealed,  would  enter 
her  stuffy  cabin  —  a  hole  between  decks  hardly 
worthy  of  the  name — to  rally  her  upon  her  in 
difference  to  the  splendors  of  the  sea  and  the 
polychromatic  beauties  of  the  islands  on  their 
bow.  Upon  her  father's  departure,  the  tears, 
held  back  while  he  was  by  her  side,  would  dim  the 
lustre  of  her  splendid  eyes,  and  her  white,  slender 
hands  would  rise  in  supplication  to  the  smiling 
Virgin  who  looked  down  upon  her  from  the 
slanting  wooden  wall  above  her  head. 

Why  had  she,  to  whom  the  Old  World  offered 
all  its  sweetest  gifts,  become  a  voluntary  exile, 
a  hopeless  maiden  weeping  in  a  corner  of  a  va 
grant  ship?  Ever  with  her  through  those  weary 
weeks  this  question  craved  an  answer.  Ever 
from  the  past  arose  the  gorgeous  pictures  of  her 
former  life,  a  life  of  courtly  splendor  where  the 
world  was  gay.  In  the  dark  watches  of  the 
night,  Dona  Julia  de  Aquilar,  half  dozing,  half 
awake,  would  tread  again  the  stately  mazes  of  a 
contre-dance  or  smile  demurely  upon  a  powdered 
and  bejewelled  cavalier.  She  would  hear  again 
the  merry,  mocking  voices  of  Versailles  or  the 
stately  tones  of  Spanish  gentlemen.  Suddenly 
the  lurching  of  the  ship  would  rouse  her  from 
her  waking  dream,  and,  putting  up  a  hand,  as  if 
defying  fate,  she  would  touch  the  wooden  walls 
of  her  voluntary  cell,  walls  that  seemed  to  be 

52 


RODRIQUEZ  TAKES  HIS  REVENGE 

bearing  down  upon  her  with  the  weight  of 
worlds,  crushing  out  the  color  from,  her  cheeks, 
the  light  from  her  eyes,  the  joy  of  youth  from 
her  rebellious  soul. 

But,  waking  or  sleeping,  one  face  was  always 
gazing  at  her  from  the  past,  a  face  which  seemed 
to  laup-h  in  courteous  derision  at  her  plight.  "  I 
slew  Don  Josef — your  betrothed,"  the  haunting 
vision  seemed  to  say,  while  upon  the  clear-cut 
countenance  which  memory  photographed  the 
girl  could  see  the  gay  and  mocking  smile  of  one 
who  knew  the  world  too  well.  Her  betrothed  ? 
Though  dead,  she  hated  him.  Caprice  and  van 
ity  had  forged  for  her  the  chains  that  had 
made  her,  at  Versailles,  a  captive,  longing  to  be 
free.  And  when  her  freedom  came,  when  the 
sword  of  him  whose  vibrant  voice  she  could  hear 
above  the  creaking  and  groaning  of  the  ship  had 
severed  forever  the  bonds  which  tied  her  to  an 
unloved  man,  her  liberty  was  nothing  worth, 
taking  its  revenge  upon  her  for  her  former  negli 
gence  by  coming  back  too  late.  She  had  learned, 
through  the  gossip  of  a  chattering  court,  that  he 
who  had  cut  down  her  betrothed  had  fled  across 
the  sea.  Never  again  would  she  look  upon  de 
Sancerre's  face,  nor  hear  a  voice  which,  while  it 
mocked  at  love,  had  thrilled  her  heart  of  hearts. 
The  years  in  passing  would  leave  to  her  a  mem 
ory — and  nothing  more. 
53 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

What  mattered  it,  then,  whether  she  passed 
her  weary  span  of  life  in  the  city  of  Seville  or  in 
the  strange  environment  toward  which  the  ship 
plunged  on  ?  In  either  case,  the  romance  of  her 
youth  was  dead.  That  the  strange  chances  of  ex 
istence  \vould  ever  bring  Louis  de  Sancerre  again 
to  her  side,  Julia  de  Aquilar  never  dreamed.  Even 
in  the  prayers  that  she  offered  day  and  night  to 
the  Virgin  Mother  above  her  head  she  had  never 
voiced  a  longing  which,  put  into  words,  would 
have  sounded  to  her  ears  like  the  incipient  ravings 
of  insanity.  Her  betrothed  and  the  man  whom 
she  had  begun  to  love  had  both  passed  from  her 
life  at  the  same  moment,  and  through  the  gloom 
of  night  there  came  to  Dona  Julia  no  ray  of  hope 
save  from  the  gentle  radiance  of  Mother  Church. 
The  veil,  and  its  promise  of  perfect  peace,  grew 
constantly  more  alluring  to  her  distraught  soul, 
as  week  crept  into  week  and  the  very  timbers  of 
the  ship  cried  ever  louder  against  the  cruel  per 
sistence  of  the  lonely  sea. 

From  a  dreamless  sleep — a  rare  blessing  vouch 
safed  by  Mother  Mary — Dofia  Julia  awoke  one 
night  with  a  start  and  sat  upright  in  her  ham 
mock,  peering  into  the  darkness  with  straining 
eyes.  What  had  disturbed  her  slumber  she  did 
not  at  first  know.  But  above  her  head  echoed 
the  shuffling  sounds  of  hurrying  feet,  and  the 
flapping  of  canvas  as  the  ship  came  about  in  a 
54 


RODRIQUEZ    TAKES    HIS    REVENGE 

stiff  breeze.  Leaping  down  from  her  hammock 
and  throwing  a  long,  black  cape  over  her  shoul 
ders,  she  groped  her  way  to  the  entrance  to 
her  cabin  and  threw  open  the  clumsy  door.  A 
swinging  lantern  lighted  the  hatchway,  and,  al 
most  before  her  eyes  had  grown  accustomed  to 
the  sudden  glare,  above  her  head  sounded  the 
grewsome  cry  of  "  Man  overboard  !" 

At  that  instant  down  the  ladder  in  front  of  the 
trembling  girl  crept  the  slinking  figure  of  Juan 
Kodriquez.  For  a  fleeting  moment  Dona  Julia 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  youth's  pallid  face,  upon 
which  there  rested  an  evil  smile  made  up  of  fear, 
cruelty,  and  triumph.  Believing  himself  unob 
served,  Juan  stood  for  a  moment  at  the  foot  of 
the  ladder  looking  upward  toward  the  deck  and 
listening  intently  to  the  uproar  above  his  head. 
Then,  with  a  subdued  chuckle,  which  sent  a  chill 
through  the  heart  of  the  motionless  girl,  he  stole 
into  the  shadows  toward  his  berth  amidships. 

The  harsh  cries  of  the  panic-stricken  sailors 
filled  the  night  with  a  horrid  din.  The  Spanish 
maiden,  undecided  whether  to  climb  to  the  deck 
or  to  return  to  her' hammock,  crossed  herself  de 
voutly  and  murmured  a  prayer  to  St.  Christopher, 
Avho  watches  over  seamen  and  protects  the  faith 
ful  from  night  alarms.  The  mischievous  lantern, 
vibrating  wildly  as  the  ship  took  the  seas  broad 
side  on,  threw  lights  and  shadows  across  the  dis- 
55 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

turbed  face  of  the  girl,  and  seemed  to  rejoice  at 
its  chance  to  add  to  the  uncanny  features  of  her 
surroundings. 

The  turmoil  on  the  deck  decreased  as  the  mo 
ments  passed,  but  Dona  Julia  still  stood  waiting, 
listening,  praying;  chafing  at  inaction,  but  dis 
trustful  of  the  night  beyond  the  hatchway.  To 
her,  thus  agitated,  came  her  father  down  the  lad 
der,  his  worn  figure  bent  as  if  it  carried  a  great 
burden.  He  turned  and  faced  her,  and  as  the 
playful  lantern  swung  toward  them  she  saw  that 
his  face  was  ghastly  pale,  and  that  his  thin  hand 
trembled  as  he  wiped  the  sea-spray  from  his  fur 
rowed  brow. 

"  What  is  It,  father  ?"  asked  the  girl,  spring 
ing  toward  Don  Rodrigo  and  placing  both  hands 
upon  his  shoulders  as  she  peered  into  his  white 
face. 

"  Captain  Hernandez,"  muttered  the  old  man, 
in  a  voice  that  told  the  story  of  his  despair — "  he 
fell  into  the  sea.  None  saw  him  in  the  black 
ness  of  the  night,  but  far  astern  the  helmsman 
heard  a  cry — and  that  was  all!  God  rest  his 
soul !"  he  groaned,  crossing  himself.  "  It  will  go 
hard  with  us,  I  fear." 

"  But,  father — Mother  Mary,  pray  for  him ! — 
the  vojTage  nears  its  end.  Captain  Hernandez — 
the  saints  receive  him ! — had  with  him  men  who 
know  these  seas?" 

56 


RODRIQUEZ    TAKES    HIS    REVENGE 

"  I  trust  them  not,"  murmured  the  old  man, 
wearily.  Then,  as  if  he  regretted  the  admission 
he  had  made,  he  bent  and  kissed  the  anxious 
face  of  his  daughter  and  said,  with  an  effort  at 
cheerfulness,  "  But  fear  not,  Julia.  All  will  yet 
be  well.  I've  vowed  an  altar  to  St.  James  of 
Compostella,  whose  blessing  rests  on  pilgrims  of 
the  faith.  But  how  to  calm  the  crew  I  hardly 
know.  The  sailors  seem  nigh  mad  with  fear. 
They  say  that  Satan  is  aboard  the  ship." 

"  Alas,  I  think  he  is,"  murmured  Julia  to  her 
self,  as  she  returned  to  her  cabin  and  threw  her 
self  despondently  upon  her  swinging  bed.  That 
she  had  solved  by  chance  the  awful  secret  of  the 
captain's  death,  she  could  not  for  a  moment 
doubt. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IN    WHICH    SATAN    HAS    HIS    WAY    WITH    THE 
CONCEPCION 

DAWN  crept  sullenly  across  the  heaving  bosom 
of  the  gulf,  as  if  disaffected  by  the  night's  dark 
deed.  The  sun  gazed  for  a  moment  upon  a  ship 
accursed,  then  hid  its  light  behind  black,  evil- 
looking  clouds.  From  the  east  and  south  came 
winds  that  smote  the  sea  and  dug  deep  valleys 
in  the  briny  waste.  Then,  where  the  valleys 
gaped,  great  hills  of  water  rose  and  wet  the  air, 
and  chased  each  other  toward  the  wind-made 
chasms  just  beyond.  Losing  their  temper  in  their 
wild  career,  the  boisterous  blasts  let  forth  an 
angry  roar  and  lashed  the  waters  viciously.  Be 
fore  the  dawn  could  take  the  name  of  day,  a 
mighty  battle  raged  between  the  gale  and  gulf. 

The  command  of  the  Conception  had  fallen  to 
Miquel  Sanchez,  a  veteran  seaman,  but  unskilled 
in  the  nicer  points  of  navigation.  Knowing  the 
treacherous  nature  of  the  waters  through  which 
his  ship  was  reeling,  uncertain  of  his  course,  and 
depending  for  aid  upon  a  sullen,  superstitious 

53 


SATAN    HAS    HIS    WAY 

crew,  already  persuaded  that  the  vessel  had  been 
doomed  to  destruction,  the  outlook  seemed  mena 
cing,  wellnigh  hopeless,  to  the  new  master  of  the 
Conception,  as  he  paced  his  narrow  deck  at  dawn, 
and  hoarsely  shouted  orders  for  the  taking  in  of 
sail.  The  ship,  showing  her  keel  to  the  yawning 
chasms  in  the  sea,  rushed  affrighted  under  bare 
poles  through  the  welter  toward  the  west.  As 
the  storm  increased  in  fury,  the  panic  of  the  crew 
grew  less  controllable.  Even  the  helmsman  strove 
to  tell  his  beads  when  the  eyes  of  Sanchez  turned 
to  scan  the  sky  ;  and,  broken  by  the  howling 
blasts,  the  noise  of  prayers  and  curses  echoed 
from  the  decks.  The  desperate  sailors  knew  the 
sea  too  well  to  hug  the  hope  that  such  a  ship  as 
theirs  could  foil  the  fury  of  the  storm.  Had  not 
a  priest  deserted  them?  Had  not  their  captain 
perished  in  the  waves?  Who  doubted  Satan's 
presence  on  the  ship  would  be  too  dull  to  die! 

Don  Rodrigo  de  Aquilar  had  made  his  way 
with  much  effort  to  Dona  Julia's  cabin,  and  had 
found  her  on  her  knees  before  the  painting  of 
the  Virgin,  praying  for  a  miracle  that  should 
snatch  the  vessel  from  its  certain  doom.  The 
girl's  face,  above  which  raven-black  locks  were 
coiled  in  picturesque  disorder,  was  white  from 
the  imminence  of  their  peril,  while  her  soft,  dark 
eyes  gleamed  with  the  fervor  of  her  supplication. 
As  she  arose  to  greet  her  father,  the  hand  which 
59 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

she  slipped  into  his  was  cold,  but  trembled  not. 
If  the  fear  of  death  lurked  in  her  heart,  it  was 
only  by  the  pallor  of  her  cheek  its  presence  could 
be  known.  Her  eyes  were  steady  and  her  lips 
were  firm  as  she  stood  there  reading  her  father's 
haggard  face  to  find,  if  so  the  saints  decreed,  a 
gleam  of  hope  to  cheer  her  soul. 

"  God's  mercy  on  us  all !"  muttered  the  old 
Spaniard,  pressing  his  daughter's  hand  to  his 
breast.  "  This  Sanchez  is  as  stubborn  as  a  Moor ! 
He  will  not  change  his  helm !  I  am  no  seaman, 
but  I've  sat  with  poor  Hernandez  many  an  hour 
and  conned  the  chart  of  this  same  sea  we  sail. 
But  yesternoon  he  made  a  reckoning.  If  the  sun 
spake  sooth,  upon  the  course  we  hold  we'll  dash 
to  pieces  'gainst  a  curving  coast.  I  told  this  sul 
len  Sanchez  what  I  knew,  but,  'though  he  crossed 
himself,  he  gave  no  heed  to  me." 

Doila  Julia's  arm,  showing  white  as  marble 
against  the  black  cloak  hanging  from  his  shoul 
ders,  was  thrown  around  her  father's  neck.  Kiss 
ing  his  pallid  cheek,  she  said  : 

"  I  have  no  love  of  life  ;  no  fear  of  death  !  To 
die  with  you,  my  father — will  it  be  so  hard?" 

"  To  die  without  confession — that  is  hard  !"  ex 
claimed  Don  Rodrigo,  despondently.  "  I  begged 
the  Carmelite  to  stay  with  us  ;  but,  still,  he  gave 
me  absolution  ere  he  left.  And  if  I  perish,  'tis 
for  Mother  Church !  But  listen,  Julia !  I  am 

CO 


SATAN    HAS    HIS    WAY 

old  and  worn.  A  few  years  more  or  less  are  little 
worth.  But  you  are  young.  You  must  not  die, 
my  child  !  If  I  had  lured  you  to  an  ocean  grave, 
I'm  sure  my  soul  would  find  no  peace  in  Para 
dise." 

Dona  Julia  had  seated  herself  upon  the  edge 
of  her  uneasy  hammock,  and  was  looking  down 
at  her  father,  who  had  attempted  to  maintain  an 
upright  posture  upon  the  treacherous  surface  of 
a  sea-chest  fastened  by  clamps  to  the  cabin  floor. 
Suddenly  the  old  Spaniard  arose  and  stumbled 
to  the  hatchway. 

"Juan!"  he  cried,  striving  to  cast  his  voice 
amidships  in  spite  of  the  howling  of  the  gale,  the 
ominous  thumping  of  the  loosened  ballast,  the 
cries  of  frantic  sailors,  and  the  thunder  of  the 
seas  as  they  pounded  vengefully  against  the  frail 
timbers  of  the  ship.  "  Juan  .Rodriquez,  come 
aft  at  once  !  Juan  !  Juan  !" 

A  hand,  cold  as  ice,  was  clapped  upon  the  old 
man's  white  and  trembling  lips. 

"  Father,  I  implore  you,  do  not  summor,  him," 
prayed  Julia,  striving  to  drag  the  aged  Spaniard 
back  into  her  cabin.  "  He  cannot  serve  you 
now.  For  Mother  Mary's  sake,  I  beg  of  you  to 
leave  him  to  his  prayers.  He  has  sore  need  of 
them." 

Her  protest  came  too  late.  In  the  dim,  gray 
light  of  the  hatchway  the  girl  caught  sight  of  a 
61 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

face  which  even  in  that  awful  hour  wore  an  in 
scrutable,  evil  smile,  as  if  the  diabolical  spirit  of 
the  storm  had  rejoiced  the  soul  of  Juan  Ilodri- 
quez. 

"  We're  driving  fast,  Juan,  upon  an  unknown 
coast,"  said' Don  Rodrigo,  coolly,  a  detaining  arm 
thrown  around  his  daughter's  waist.  "You're 
lithe  and  muscular,  and  come  of  fearless  stock. 
I've  seen  you  in  the  water  at  Seville."  At  this 
moment  the  increasing  uproar  aboardship  com 
pelled  the  old  man  to  raise  his  thin  voice  to 
a  shout.  Drawing  from  his  breast  a  package 
wrapped  in  oil-skin,  he  thrust  it  toward  the  out 
stretched  hand  of  his  secretary.  "  Here  is  my 
patent  from  the  King  of  Spain.  'Twill  serve  as 
Julia's  title  to  the  mines — to  the  greater  glory  of 
our  Mother  Church !  And,  for  the  sake  of  hea 
then  souls  beyond,  your  arm,  my  Juan,  must  save 
my  daughter  from  these  hungry  seas.  I  say  to 
you—" 

"  Father,  as  you  love  me,  as  you  hope  for  Par 
adise,  put  no  trust  in  this  man's  loyalty!  If 
you  must  die,  I  do  not  care  to  live.  A  thou 
sand  deaths  were  better  than  a  life  saved 
by  a—" 

At  that  instant  a  crash,  as  if  the  storm  had 

served  as  usher  to  the  crack  of  doom,  drove  the 

word  she  would  have  uttered   back   upon   her 

tongue.     Don  Rodrigo's  white  head  was  turned 

62 


SATAN    HAS    HIS    WAY 

to  crimson  by  its  impact  with  an  iron-jointed 
beam,  and,  plunging  forward,  he  lay  dead  beside 
his  daughter's  feet.  Dona  Julia  tottered  forward 
a  step  or  two,  and  then  fell  swooning  into  Juan's 
arms. 


CHAPTER   IX 

IN    WHICH    TWO    CHILDREN    OF    THE    SUN    ASTONISH    A 
SCOUNDKEL 

BEFOKE  the  day  was  ended  the  winds  and 
waves  had  signed  a  truce,  but  on  the  beach,  far 
to  the  westward  of  the  Mississippi's  mouth,  lay 
ghastly  trophies  of  their  recent  war.  In  a  vain 
effort  to  propitiate  the  demon  of  the  storm — ac 
cording  to  the  Portuguese  sailors :  to  lighten 
the  vessel,  the  captain  would  have  said — cables, 
spars,  water-casks,  kits  and  chests  of  varying  size, 
puncheons  of  wine,  bags  of  sea-buscuit,  cannon, 
powder,  and  stone  ballast  had  been  thrown  over 
board  in  a  futile  effort  to  float  the  shattered  ship 
from  a  sunken  reef.  A  portion  of  this  impo 
tent  sacrifice  the  sullen  surf  had  uplifted  upon 
its  crest,  and,  rushing  shoreward,  had  tossed  it 
spitefully  upon  the  sands. 

As  the  hours  dragged  on,  while  the  storm,  in 
full  retreat,  hurried  its  black  battalions  toward 
the  west,  the  moaning  beach  became  a  resting- 
place  for  grimmer  flotsam  than  sailor's  kit  or 
broken  spar.  Trusting  to  the  stanchness  of 
64 


A    SCOUNDREL   ASTONISHED 

their  ships  and  the  favor  of  their  saints,  the 
Spanish  seamen  in  those  adventurous  days  but 
seldom  learned  to  swim.  In  constant  peril  from 
the  hungry  waves,  forever  searching  unknown 
seas,  where  shipwreck  menaced  him  at  every  hour, 
the  Spaniard  or  the  Portuguese  would  drown, 
amazed  to  find  no  saving  potency  in  strings  of 
beads,  no  buoyancy  in  dangling  crucifix. 

When  the  ship  Conception,  abandoned  by  the 
saints,  struck  on  a  rock,  concealed  beneath  the 
waves  by  Satan's  crafty  hand,  there  was  only  one 
man  aboard  the  vessel  who  had  learned  to  breast 
the  surf  with  strength  and  skill  sufficient  for  a 
crisis  such  as  this — and  he  was  a  white-faced 
landsman,  who  had  spent  his  life  with  pen  and 
books,  learning  nothing  of  the  sea  save  what  had 
come  to  him  when  bathing  in  the  sunny  waters 
of  Seville. 

For  the  first  time  in  all  the  countless  centuries 
since  the  floods  had  tossed  it  there,  the  curving 
beach  now  watched  the  grewsome  pastime  which 
a  shipwreck  grants  the  surf.  A  shadow  on  a 
billow  rushing  landward,  a  black  spot  on  a  white- 
plumed,  tossing  wave,  a  splash  and  hissing  on 
the  trembling  sands,  and  there  on  the  shore,  as 
the  storm-wind  rushes  by,  lies  a  thing  which  was 
once  a  man,  a  black-and-white  blotch  in  the  dim 
light  vouchsafed  by  the  scudding  clouds.  With 
uncanny  satisfaction  at  its  task,  the  undercur- 
E  65 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CKUCIFIX 

rent,  slinking  back  again  beneath  the  sea,  returns 
to  lay  upon  the  sands  another  horrid  plaything 
of  the  surf.  'Tis  novel  sport  for  this  deserted 
coast,  but  how  the  waves  enjoy  it!  They  roar 
and  thunder,  sob  and  laugh  and  hiss ;  they  toss 
their  new-found  toys  upon  the  sands,  then  snatch 
them  back  again  and  turn  them  'round  and 
'round  as  if  in  envy  of  the  grasping  beach.  But 
as  the  hours  pass  by,  the  shore  keeps  gaining 
what  the  billows  lose.  When  the  sun  has  pierced 
the  western  clouds,  to  cast  a  passing  gleam  across 
the  panting  sea,  the  glistening  sands  are  dotted 
far  and  wide  with  worthless  relics  of  the  surf's 
grim  sport. 

The  arms  of  Juan  Eodriquez  had  been  moved 
by  mighty  passions  to  a  most  stupendous  feat. 
Strong  swimmer  though  he  was,  the  burden  of  a 
senseless  girl,  and  the  striving  of  the  deep  to 
make  no  blunder  in  the  game  it  played,  had 
turned  his  heart  to  ice,  while  the  minutes  seemed 
like  hours  and  each  stroke  that  he  made  was  fee 
bler  than  the  last.  But  the  struggling  wretch  was 
urged  to  mad  endeavor  by  a  combination  of  the 
most  potent  motives  which  can  inspire  the  efforts 
of  a  man.  Fear  of  death  and  love  of  a  woman 
united  in  that  awful  hour  to  give  to  Juan's  slender 
but  well-knit  body  a  stubborn  endurance  that 
foiled  the  undertow  and  checked,  for  the  nonce, 
the  surf's  ghastly  pastime.  Slowly  but  persist- 
66 


A    SCOUNDREL    ASTONISHED 

ently,  with  gasping  breath  and  straining  eyes, 
now  smothered  in  the  brine,  now  lifted  like  a 
cork  upon  a  wave,  a  man  who  was  not  fit  to  die 
fought  wildly  with  the  sea  for  life  and  love.  To 
leave  the  girl  to  drown  and  struggle  on  alone, 
with  certain  victory  within  his  grasp,  hisjdread 
of  death  had  tempted  him  to  do.  But  at  that  in 
stant  a  kindlier  current  than  he  had  hoped  to 
find  eased  for  a  moment  the  pressure  upon  his 
chest,  and  bore  him  slantingly  athwart  the  beach 
far  westward  of  the  wrecked  Conception. 

To  the  fainting  youth  and  his  senseless  burden 
the  damp  strand  offered  no  easy  couch,  but  it 
was  better  to  lie  there  on  the  shore,  while  the 
enemy,  checkmated,  scolded  and  threatened  and 
boasted  in  complaining  impotence  just  outside 
the  danger-line,  than  to  choke  and  die,  and  go  to 
judgment  unshrived  and  with  black  crimes  upon 
one's  soul.  What  mattered  it  to  Juan  Eodriquez 
that  for  a  time,  as  he  lay  struggling  for  breath 
upon  the  beach,  the  ripples,  malicious  offspring 
of  the  giant  breakers,  washed  moist  sand  into  his 
hair  and  ears,  and  licked  his  corpselike  face  as 
if  they  kissed  him  for  his  prowess  while  they 
whispered  vengeful  threats? 

Presently  the  victorious  swimmer  regained  his 

senses,  and,  tottering  to  his  feet,  dragged  the 

shrunken  figure  of  Dona  Julia  further  up  the 

beach.     Her  black  gown  clung  close  around  her 

67 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

as  she  lay,  as  if  asleep,  upon  the  sands,  the  only 
thing  of  beauty  that  the  sea  had  brought  to  land. 
Juan  bent  down  and  placed  his  hand  upon  her 
bosom.  The  gleam  of  despair  in  his  sunken  eyes 
died  out  as  he  felt  the  feeble  beating  of  her  heart 
and  upon  his  cheek  the  faint  impact  of  her  re 
turning  breath.  Then  he  drew  himself  up  to  his 
full  height,  cast  a  glance  of  triumph  at  the 
treacherous  sea,  and,  assured  of  Dona  Julia's 
safety,  hurried  eastward  across  the  shingle,  glis 
tening  at  that  moment  from  the  rays  of  the  set 
ting  sun. 

It  was  a  dismal  task  that  the  dripping,  trem 
bling  youth  had  essayed.  From  one  staring, 
motionless  victim  of  the  storm  to  another  went 
Juan,  placing  his  shaking  hand  above  hearts 
which  would  never  beat  again,  and  starting 
back  in  horror  from  faces  which  served  as  mir 
rors  to  the  pain  of  sudden  death.  And  ever  as 
he  crept  on  from  one  purple  corpse  to  another 
the  conviction  became  more  fixed  in  his  mind 
that  he  alone,  of  all  the  sturdy  men  upon  that 
fated  ship,  had  kept  the  spark  of  life  within  his 
breast.  Suddenly  the  sightless  eyes  of  Miquel 
Sanchez  stared  up  at  him  in  the  sunlight. 

"Curse  you!     Curse  you!"  cried  Juan,  kicking 

the  unprotesting  corpse  in  senseless  rage.    "Had 

I  known  you  were  a  lubber,  Hernandez  had  not 

died!     'Tis  well  for  you  the  sea  took  all  your 

68 


A    SCOUNDREL    ASTONISHED 

life,  or  I'd  choke  the  dying  breath  from  out  your 
throat !  Curse  you !" 

Bending  down,  the  youth,  a  madman  for  the 
instant,  seized  a  handful  of  moist  sand  and  hurled 
it  spitefully  into  the  upturned  face  of  the  man 
whose  stubborn  ignorance  had  placed  in  jeopardy 
his  schemes  for  self-aggrandizement.  But  at 
that  horrid  moment  Juan  Rodriquez  knew,  for 
self-confession  forced  itself  upon  him,  that  it  was 
his  own  weak  yielding  to  the  thirst  for  ven 
geance  which  had  wrecked  the  vessel.  Coward 
that  he  was,  the  fury  of  his  self-reproach  found 
vicious  vent  upon  a  lifeless  trunk  that  had  no 
power  of  protest  against  so  grave  a  wrong. 

The  fervor  of  his  unjust  anger  spent,  Juan 
turned,  like  a  snarling  cur,  from  the  outraged 
corpse,  and,  hungry  for  human  intercourse,  re 
solved  to  return  at  once  to  Dona  Julia's  side, 
restore  her  to  her  senses,  and  fortify  his  fal 
tering  heart  by  the  sound  of  a  living  voice. 
He  had  gazed  into  dead  men's  faces  until  his 
soul  was  sick  with  the  horror  of  the  day.  He 
glanced  at  the  sinking  sun  petulantly,  as  if  he 
awaited  with  impatience  the  black  shroud  that 
oncoming  night  would  throw  over  the  motion 
less  bodies  scattered  along  the  beach. 

Suddenly  the  youth,  an  expression  of  mingled 
astonishment,  horror,  and  fear  upon  his  changing 
face,  fell  upon  his  knees  and  crossed  himself  with 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

a  fervor  begotten  of  the  miracle  upon  which  his 
straining  eyes  now  gazed. 

Beside  the  out-stretched  figure  of  Dona  Julia 
stood  two  angelic  beings,  taller  than  the  run  of 
men,  who  faced  the  sun  and  raised  their  arms 
straight  upward  toward  the  evening  sky.  They 
wore  white  robes,  and  from  the  distant  dune  to 
which  the  startled  Juan  crawled  it  seemed  as  if 
golden  halos  glorified  the  heads  of  these  marvel 
lous  messengers  from  Paradise.  They  stood  for 
a  time  with  arms  upraised,  while  to  the  strain 
ing  ears  of  a  youth  whose  heart  felt  like  a  lump 
of  ice  came  the  subdued  notes  of  a  chant  which, 
he  knew  full  well,  was  music  not  of  earthly 
origin.  Presently  the  angels  bent  their  heads 
together,  as  if  in  heavenly  converse,  while  Juan 
cast  a  stealthy  glance  across  the  sun-red  sands 
to  see  if  Miquel  Sanchez  had  roused  himself 
from  death  to  totter  toward  God's  envoys  with 
an  awful  accusation  upon  his  lips.  When  his 
eyes  turned  toward  the  west  again,  relieved  to 
find  the  sailor  still  lying  stark  and  still,  Juan 
saw  that  the  angels  had  gently  uplifted  the  body 
of  Julia  de  Aquilar,  and,  with  stately  grace,  were 
bearing  it  away  toward  the  twilight  of  the  foot 
hills.  With  his  wet  garments  chilling  the  very 
marrow  in  his  bones,  the  thief  and  murderer 
watched  these  celestial  beings  bearing  his  love 
away  to  Paradise.  The  grim  mockery  of  the 
70 


A    SCOUNDREL    ASTONISHED 

chattering  prayer  that  he  breathed  he  could  not 
comprehend.  He  paid  the  homage  of  furtive 
worship  to  angels  whose  searching  glance,  he 
feared,  might  seek  him  out  behind  his  sandy 
lurking-place. 

The  red -fringed  twilight  had  lost  its  glow, 
and  the  zenith  had  pinned  a  star  upon  its  breast 
before  Juan  Rodriquez,  still  trembling  at  the 
miracle  that  he  had  seen,  found  courage  to  slink 
westward  along  the  shore.  Behind  him  dead 
men  seemed  to  stalk,  following  his  footsteps  with 
grim  persistence,  while  somewhere  from  the 
hills  upon  his  right  the  eyes  of  angels  searched 
his  very  soul.  On  across  the  beach  he  hurried, 
while  the  waters  of  the  gulf  turned  black,  and 
the  dread  silence  of  the  night  was  broken  only 
by  the  gossip  of  the  waves,  telling  the  sands  a 
horrid  secret  that  they  had  learned. 

Alone  with  his  thoughts,  with  the  memory  of 
dark  crimes  upon  his  soul,  Juan  strove  through 
the  long  night  to  cast  far  behind  him  the  haunted 
shore  upon  which  angels  came  and  went.  The 
interplay  of  life  and  death  had  left  him  only  this 
— the  hope  of  wealth.  Had  he  known  that  be 
tween  him  and  the  silver-mines  that  he  sought 
lay  more  than  a  thousand  weary  miles,  he  would 
have  made  a  pillow  of  the  sand  in  his  despair. 


CHAPTER  X 

IN     WHICH    THE     CROSS     IS    CARRIED     TO     A     CITY     OF 
IDOLATERS 

"  I  HAVE  learned  something  of  these  proud 
pagans,  Chatemuc.  They  are  worshippers  of 
fire ;  fruit  ripe  to  pluck,  to  the  greater  glory  of 
Mother  Church." 

The  Mohican  grunted  in  acquiescence  as  he 
strode  forward,  a  copper-colored  giant  by  the 
side  of  the  gray -garbed,  undersized  Franciscan. 

Beneath  budding  trees  and  along  a  flower- 
haunted  trail  went  de  la  Salle's  envoys  to  the 
children  of  the  sun.  It  was  high  noon,  and  the 
god  of  the  idolaters  shone  down  upon  those  who 
would  dethrone  him  as  a  deity  with  a  kindly 
radiance  behind  which  no  malice  lurked.  May 
hap  the  warm-hearted  luminary  had  grown 
weary  of  the  human  sacrifices  offered  up  by  his 
deluded  worshippers,  and  was  pleased  to  see  the 
gentle  Membre  carrying  a  cross,  symbol  of  a 
faith  which  demands  for  its  altars  no  gifts  but 
contrite  hearts,  toward  a  blood-stained  city  in 
which  a  savage  cult  still  lay  as  a  curse  upon 

72 


A    CITY    OF    IDOLATERS 

a  race  endowed  by  nature  with  many  kindly 
traits. 

Between  Membre,  the  friar,  and  Chatemuc,  the 
Mohican,  had  long  existed  a  cordial  friendship, 
based,  in  part,  upon  hardships  and  dangers  shared 
together,  but  more  especially  upon  the  relation 
ship  existing  between  them  of  a  missionary  to  a 
convert.  Of  the  many  native  Americans  who 
had  become  good  children  of  Mother  Church  un 
der  the  inspiring  influence  of  the  magnetic  Fran 
ciscan  none  had  been  more  faithful  to  his  adopted 
religion  than  the  stately  Mohican,  whose  proud, 
reserved,  but  inherently  enthusiastic  temperament 
derived  warmth  and  inspiration  from  the  friar's 
exalted  soul.  Of  late  years  much  of  Zenobe 
Membre's  success  as  a  proselyter  had  been  due 
to  long  and  earnest  consultations  held  in  the  wil 
derness  with  Chatemuc,  an  Indian  understand 
ing  Indians,  and  a  Roman  Catholic  who  spoke 
French. 

Just  in  front  of  the  Mohican  and  the  Francis 
can  walked  Katonah  by  the  side  of  de  Sancerre ; 
a  forest  belle  attended  by  a  courtly  swain.  Used 
as  he  was  to  the  startling  contrasts  which  the 
exodus  of  Europeans  to  the  New  World  had  be 
gotten  in  such  abundance,  the  friar  had  been 
struck  by  the  incongruity  of  this  pair,  who 
laughed  and  chatted  just  beyond  him  with  a 
gayety  born  of  the  sunshine  and  the  spring. 
73 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

At  the  head  of  the  little  procession  strode  the 
soldierly  Henri  de  Tonti,  attended  on  either  hand 
by  a  long-limbed  child  of  the  sun.  The  Italian 
veteran  looked  like  a  pygmy  beside  his  tall, 
white-garbed,  black-haired  guides,  who  stalked 
along  on  his  flanks  with  a  stately  grace  which 
had  aroused  the  enthusiastic  admiration  of  do 
Sancerre,  a  cosmopolite  who  had  in  his  time 
looked  upon  many  well-formed  warriors  both  in 
the  Old  World  and  the  New. 

"  They  worship  fire,  Chatemuc,"  repeated  the 
Franciscan,  earnestly,  after  a  moment's  silence. 
"  Their  god  is  the  sun,  and  they  have  a  priesthood 
whose  duty  it  is  to  keep  alive  in  their  temple  a 
blaze  of  logs,  first  lighted,  generations  back,  by 
the  sun  itself." 

The  Mohican  turned  and  looked  down  at  the 
friar  with  a  gleam  of  mingled  astonishment  and 
inquiry  in  his  melancholy  eyes.  The  grunt  to 
which  he  gave  vent  the  Franciscan  well  under 
stood. 

"  You  are  amazed  at  my  knowledge  of  their 
customs,  my  Chatemuc,"  remarked  the  Fran 
ciscan,  smilingly.  "  But  have  I  not  heard  many 
wild  and  horrid  tales  in  the  years  through 
which  I've  borne  the  cross  to  outlands  such 
as  this?  'Tis  strange,  indeed,  how  rumor  flies 
through  forests,  over  lakes,  and  makes  the 
mountains  rear  their  tops  in  vain.  'Tis  thus 
74 


A    CITY    OF    IDOLATERS 

the  saints  work  miracles  for  us,  that  we  may 
bear  the  Word  to  savage  lands.  As  feeble  men, 
we  could  do  naught,  my  son  ;  but  with  the 
pioneers  of  Mother  Church  march  all  the  hosts 
of  heaven,  and  when  the  day  is  darkest  and  the 
heathen  shout  for  joy,  there  comes  a  wonder, 
some  marvel  on  the  earth,  some  sudden  splendor 
of  the  midnight  sky,  and  the  cross,  triumphant, 
gains  another  tribe !  Oh,  Chatemuc,  the  glory 
of  it  all!" 

The  gray  eyes  of  the  Franciscan  gazed  upward 
at  the  set  face  of  the  seemingly  stoical  Indian, 
whose  religious  enthusiasm  was  rapidly  rising  to 
fever-heat  under  the  intoxicating  influence  of  the 
fanatical  friars  carefully  -  chosen  words — words 
whose  effect  upon  the  devout  Mohican  Zenobe 
Membre  was  not  now  testing  for  the  first  time. 

"But  their  fire,  father?  It  always  burns?" 
asked  Chatemuc,  presently,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Day  and  night,  year  after  year,  from  gen 
eration  to  generation,  they  keep  alive  this  idola 
trous  blaze,  a  flame  lighted  in  hell  and  carried  to 
these  pagans  by  Satan's  self.  And  while  it 
burns,  my  Chatemuc,  'twill  be  impossible  to  lure 
their  souls  to  Christ." 

The  searching  gaze  of  the  friar  scanned  close 
ly  the  phlegmatic  face  of  the  Mohican.  Not  a 
muscle  in  Chatemuc's  copper-colored  countenance 
moved,  but  a  dangerous  gleam  had  begun  to  flash 
75 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

in  his  eyes  as  they  rested  now  and  again  upon 
the  white -robed  sun  -  worshippers  striding  on 
ahead  of  him. 

"  They  guard  the  fire  by  day  and  night  ?" 

"  'Tis  never  left  alone,  my  son,"  answered  the 
Franciscan,  fully  satisfied  with  the  effect  that 
his  words  had  had  upon  Chatemuc. 

The  native  American  is  not  a  rash  and  impul 
sive-  being.  Courageous  Chatemuc  was,  beyond 
many  of  his  race ;  but  he  was,  nevertheless,  an 
Indian,  and  inclined  to  attain  his  ends  by  craft 
and  subtlety  rather  than  by  reckless  daring.  It 
was  not  until  the  French  had  introduced  the 
native  American  to  the  civilizing  influence  of 
brandy  that  the  latter  abandoned,  at  times,  in 
his  warfare  the  methods  of  a  snake,  and  fought, 
now  and  then,  like  a  lion. 

"  How  large  a  guard,  my  father,  do  they  keep 
around  their  fire  ?"  asked  the  Mohican,  presently. 

"  That  I  do  not  know,  my  son.  But  bear  this  in 
mind,  good  Chatemuc :  against  a  soldier  fighting 
for  the  cross  the  powers  of  hell  cannot  prevail. 
Remember,  Chatemuc,  that  unless  that  blaze  is 
turned  to  ashes  in  their  sight,  my  prayers  and 
exhortations  will  be  of  no  avail.  We'll  leave 
them  pagans  as  we  found  them,  unless  their 
sacred  fire  no  longer  burns." 

The  vibrant  notes  in  the  friar's  rich  voice  re 
kindled  the  light  in  the  Indian's  gloomy  eyes. 
76 


A    CITY    OF    IDOLATERS 

"Either  the  fire  or  a  Mohican  shall  die,  my 
father !"  exclaimed  the  warrior,  in  low,  earnest 
tones.  "  Chatemuc,  your  son  in  Christ,  has 
sworn  an  oath." 

Meanwhile  the  high  spirits  of  Louis  de  San- 
cerre  had  cast  their  spell  upon  Katonah,  a  maid 
en  whose  ready  smile  seldom  changed  to  laughter. 
But  on  this  bright  spring  day,  treading  a  flower- 
bedecked  path  by  the  side  of  a  man  whose  deli 
cately  chiselled  face  was  to  her  eyes  a  symbol 
of  all  the  joy  of  life,  it  was  not  hard  for  the 
Mohican  maiden  to  affect  a  gayety  uncharacter 
istic  of  a  race  lacking  in  vivacity. 

"  They  are  splendid  fellows,"  remarked  de 
Sancerre,  gazing  at  the  stalwart  messengers  from 
the  Brother  of  the  Sun.  "With  ten  thousand 
men  like  these,  Turenne  could  have  marched 
around  the  Avorld.  But  our  mission  to  them  is 
one  of  peace.  I  must  teach  them  the  steps  of 
the  menuet" 

"  And  what  is  that  ?"  asked  Katonah,  glancing 
over  her  shoulder  to  see  whether  Chatemuc's  re 
buking  eye  was  fixed  upon  her.  To  her  great  sat 
isfaction  she  discovered  that  her  brother  seemed 
to  be  absorbed  in  the  words  of  the  gray  friar. 

"The  menuet,  ma  petite?  'Twas  made  for 
you.  'Tis  a  coupee,  a  high  step  and  a  balance. 
Your  untrammelled  grace,  Katonah,  would  hurt 
the  eyes  of  mesdames  at  Versailles." 

77 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

Little  of  this  the  Indian  maiden  understood, 
but  she  realized  intuitively  that  her  cavalier  had 
been  paying  her  an  honest  compliment.  Her 
quick  ear,  more  sensitive  to  the  changes  in  his 
voice  than  to  all  other  sounds,  had  learned  to 
detect  and  dread  a  sarcastic  note  in  his  tones 
that  often  cut  her  to  the  heart.  But  on  this 
gay  noontide  of  a  day  at  the  close  of  what  the 
sun- worshippers  called  the  Moon  of  Strawberries, 
Louis  de  Sancerre  was  a  joyous,  frank,  vivacious 
man  who  paid  the  beautiful  savage  at  his  side 
acceptable  homage  with  his  eyes  and  in  whose 
words  she  could  find  nothing  to  wound  her 
pride. 

"When  we  reach  this  sun-baked  centre  of 
idolatr}7,  ma  petite"  remarked  De  Sancerre,  pres 
ently,  "  we  must  make  an  effort  to  remain  side 
by  side.  Though  I  should  pass  a  thousand  years 
in  harems  of  the  Turks,  I  could  not  forget  the 
face  of  that  old  hag  who  came  to  haunt  me  by 
my  lonely  couch.  'Tis  her  you  are  to  find — for 
the  greater  glory  of  our  Mother  Church.  But 
bear  this  in  mind,  petite,  that  I  must  have  some 
speech  with  her  before  the  friar  seizes  on  her 
tongue  and  makes  her  Spanish  eloquent  for 
Christ.  I'd  ask  her  of  a  miracle,  before  good 
Membre  goes  to  work  with  his." 

For  Katonah  the  glory  of  the  day  had  passed. 
The  gleam  of  happiness  died  slowly  in  her  eyes, 
78 


A    CITY    OF    IDOLATERS 

and  the  smile  which  lingered  still  upon  her  lips 
had  lost  its  joyousness.  Not  only  had  the  mock 
ing  echo  returned  to  de  Sancerre's  voice,  but  he 
had  recalled  to  the  girl's  mind  the  story  that 
he  had  told  her,  earlier  in  the  day,  of  a  Spanish 
maiden  whose  name  had  come  to  him  so  strange 
ly  in  the  dark  hours  of  the  night.  It  was,  then, 
the  memory  of  a  maiden  over-sea  which  had  led 
the  Frenchman's  footsteps  toward  the  city  of  the 
sun !  The  misery  in  Katonah's  heart  crept  into 
her  voice. 

"  I'll  serve  you  as  I  can,"  she  said,  gently,  her 
eyes  avoiding  his.  "  But,"  and  she  lowered  her 
tones  until  her  words  became  a  warning  made  in 
whispers — "  but  I  say  to  you,  monsieur,  beware 
of  Chatemuc !  Stay  not  by  my  side.  I'll  serve 
you  as  I  can.  but  leave  me  when  we  reach  the 
town.  Believe  me  when  I  say  'tis  safer  so." 

"  Ma  foi,  ma  petite"  exclaimed  de  Sancerre, 
petulantly,  turning  his  head  to  cast  a  glance  be 
hind  him  at  Chatemuc,  "your  warning,  though 
well  meant,  was  hardly  fair  to  him!  Your 
brother  is  too  good  a  friend  of  Mother  Church 
to  harbor  hatred  of  a  Catholic  like  me,  who  only 
3^esternight  vowed  three  long  candles  to  the  Vir 
gin-mother — after  that  ugly  crone  had  left  my 
side  at  last." 

•*  You  smile,  and  speak  light  words,"  murmured 
Katonah,  deprecatingly.  "  But  I  say  to  you, 

79 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

beware  of  Chatemuc.  He  loves  the  faith,  but 
hateth  you,  monsieur.  I  know  not  why.  'Tis 
strange !" 

She  gazed  at  the  Frenchman's  face  with  a 
frank  admiration  which  brought  a  self-conscious 
smile  to  the  courtier's  lips.  Flicking  a  multicol 
ored  insect  from  the  tattered  velvet  of  his  sleeve, 
de  Sancerre  exclaimed : 

"  Ah,  my  Katonah  !  'Tis  those  who  know  me 
best  who  love  me  best.  Your  brother  is  a  stran 
ger,  who  cannot  read  my  heart.  But,  hark !  what 
have  we  here  ?" 

The  noise  of  kettle-drums  and  the  howling  of  a 
great  throng  arose  in  front  of  them.  Their  stately 
guides  withdrew  from  de  Tonti's  side  and  stalked 
sedately  to  the  rear  of  the  little  group  of  stran 
gers,  leaving  the  Italian  captain  to  lead  his  fol 
lowers  to  the  imminent  outskirts  of  the  town. 

"  Listen  to  the  drums,  petite  /"  exclaimed  de 
Sancerre,  gayly.  "  We'll  dance  a  menuet  in 
yonder  city,  or  I  am  not  a  moonbeam's  favorite 
son!" 


CHAPTER  XI 

IN   WHICH   THE    BROTHER   OF    THE    SUN   WELCOMES 
THE    CHILDREN   OF    THE    MOON 

THE  Brother  of  the  Sun,  overjoyed  at  the  op 
portunity  now  before  him  to  offer  hospitality  to 
guests  upon  whose  white  faces  he  gazed  with 
mingled  admiration  and  astonishment,  had  come 
in  state  to  the  confines  of  the  forest  to  testify 
to  the  cordiality  of  a  greeting  that  illuminated 
his  well -cut,  strong,  and  mobile  countenance. 
The  Great  Sun,  as  he  was  called — his  exact  re 
lationship  to  the  orb  of  day  being,  to  a  large 
extent,  a  matter  of  conjecture — was  an  elderly 
man,  fully  six  feet  six  inches  in  height,  with  a 
light-mahogany  complexion,  hair  still  jet-black, 
and  brilliant,  dark  eyes  gazing  proudly  forth 
upon  a  world  which,  from  the  hour  of  his  birth, 
had  paid  abject  homage  to  his  exalted  rank. 

He  was  enthroned  in  a  litter  resembling  a  huge 
sedan-chair,  which  was  carried  upon  the  shoulders 
of  eight  stalwart  men  in  white  attire  but  bare 
footed.  The  four  long  arms  of  the  litter  were 
painted  red,  and  its  body  was  decorated  with 

F  81 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

embroidered  deer-skins,  leaves  of  the  magnolia- 
tree,  and  garlands  of  red  and  white  flowers.  His 
head  was  ornamented  by  a  diadem  of  white  feath 
ers.  Inserted  in  the  lobes  of  his  shapely  ears 
were  rings  of  decorated  bone.  He  wore  a  neck 
lace  made  of  the  teeth  of  alligators,  and  against 
the  background  of  his  raven  -  black  hair  gayly 
colored  beads  shone  in  the  sunlight. 

Behind  his  litter  marched  a  mighty  army  of 
three  thousand  stalwart  men,  bare-armed,  bare 
legged,  in  a  uniform  of  flowing,  white,  plaited 
mulberry -bark,  relieved  by  dyed  skins,  striped 
with  yellow,  black,  and  red,  thrown  across  their 
broad  shoulders.  They  carried  bows  made  of 
the  acacia-wood,  and  arrows  of  reed  tipped  with 
bird -feathers.  Gigantic,  muscular,  stern -faced 
warriors,  the  army  of  the  sun-worshippers  broke 
upon  the  gaze  of  the  astonished  Europeans  with 
startling  effect. 

It  has  been  asserted  that  the  immediate  ances 
tors  of  these  children  of  the  sun,  angered  at  Mon- 
tezuma,  had  joined  Cortez  in  his  victorious  cam 
paign  against  that  unfortunate  monarch.  Later 
on,  crushed  and  rebellious  under  Spanish  tyranny, 
they  had  migrated  toward  the  north  and  had 
found  peaceful  lands  to  their  liking  near  the 
banks  of  the  lower  Mississippi.  Whatever  may  be 
the  truth  of  this,  the  fact  remains  that  upon  the 
afternoon  which  found  Sieur  de  la  Salle's  envoys 
82 


WELCOME,  CHILDREN   OF   THE    MOON 

the  honored  guests  of  the  Brother  of  the  Sun, 
the  latter's  army  defiled  to  the  eastward  of  the 
city  with  ranks  which  begot  in  the  eyes  of  the 
Count  de  Sancerre  and  the  veteran  de  Tonti  a 
gleam  of  mingled  amazement  and  admiration. 
"Not  only  were  the  warriors  of  the  sun,  individ- 
imlly,  men  suggesting  prowess  and  endurance, 
but  they,  as  a  body,  gave  evidence  of  having 
learned,  from  sources  beyond  the  reach  of  native 
Americans  further  to  the  northward,  tactics  in 
dicating  a  European  origin.  If  the  sun-worship 
pers  had,  in  fact,  suffered  from  Spanish  cruelt}^, 
they  had  also  derived  from  their  tyrannical  allies 
valuable  hints  pertaining  to  the  art  of  Avar.  As 
he  gazed  at  this  army  of  athletes,  Henri  de  Tonti, 
for  the  first  time  since  he  had  left  de  la  Salle's 
camp,  felt  regret  for  the  protest  he  had  made 
against  the  expedition  which  his  leader  had  de 
creed.  Here  before  him  stood  a  splendid  band 
of  soldiers  who  might  be  made,  with  some  diplo 
macy,  loyal  friends  to  the  on-pushing  French. 

To  the  mind  of  Zenobe  Membre  the  martial 
array  before  him  presented  a  magnificent  collec 
tion  of  lost  souls,  well  worthy,  in  outward  seem 
ing,  of  the  saving  grace  of  the  cross.  To  snatch 
from  the  grasp  of  Satan  so  many  glorious  expo 
nents  of  manly  vigor  would  be,  indeed,  a  triumph 
for  Mother  Church.  Something  of  this  he 
breathed  into  the  ear  of  the  motionless  and  silent 

83 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

Chatemuc,  who  stood  with  the  friar  upon  a  low 
hillock,  overlooking  the  plain,  viewing  with 
amazement  this  imposing  regiment,  each  mem 
ber  of  which  seemed  to  be  taller  by  several 
inches  than  the  stately  Mohican. 

"  Look,  Katonah !"  cried  de  Sancerre,  seizing 
the  Indian  maiden  by  the  arm.  "  See,  there,  at 
the  side  of  his  dark-brown  Majesty's  peripatetic 
flower-garden,  stands  my  aged  midnight  prowler ! 
Her  old  face  is  turned  up  to  his.  Can  }^ou  see 
her,  ma  petite?" 

Katonah  stretched  her  shapely  limbs  to  their 
utmost  to  look  above  the  press  in  front  of  her,  and 
presently  her  eyes  lighted  upon  the  shrivelled 
crone  with  whose  discovery  she  had  been  in 
trusted  by  de  la  Salle. 

"  Go  to  your  brother  and  keep  the  friar  by  his 
side  until  I  return,  Katonah,"  whispered  the 
Frenchman,  excitedly.  "  I  must  have  speech  at 
once  with  this  old  hag." 

The  sun-worshippers,  pouring  in  throngs  from 
their  abandoned  city — men,  women,  and  chil 
dren  following  and  preceding  the  army  in  the 
fervor  of  their  welcome  to  the  white-faced  chil 
dren  of  the  moon,  who  had  come  to  them  so 
mysteriously  from  the  bosom  of  a  wonder-work 
ing  stream — impeded,  by  their  respectful  but  ex 
acting  curiosity,  the  progress  of  de  Sancerre 
toward  the  royal  group.  Women,  scantily  clad 
84 


WELCOME,  CHILDREN  OF  THE  MOON 

but  gay  with  flowers  and  feathers,  would  put 
forth  their  brown  hands  to  touch  the  tattered 
velvets  of  the  Frenchman's  travel -stained  but 
once  gorgeous  costume.  Naked  boys  and  girls 
squirmed  toward  him  unabashed,  marvelling  at 
the  pallor  of  his  face  and  the  splendor  of  the 
buckles  upon  his  shoes. 

"Peste  /"  muttered  the  annoyed  courtier  under 
his  breath.  "  If  they  but  knew  how  hard  I  have 
to  strive  to  hold  these  outworn  garments  to  my 
back,  they'd  keep  their  hands  away.  I'll  reach 
the  royal  presence  as  naked  as  a  baby  unless  they 
grow  more  gentle  with  my  garb."  And  all  the 
time  he  smiled  and  bowed,  while  men  and  wom 
en,  boys  and  girls,  cried^out  in  wild  approval  of 
his  courtly  grace. 

Henri  de  Tonti,  who  had  lost  much  of  his 
European  polish  through  the  long  friction  of 
camps  and  the  wilderness,  had  reached  the  Great 
Sun's  flowery  throne  without  winning  the  en 
thusiastic  good-will  of  these  impressionable  adult 
children,  who  seemed  to  feel  instinctively  that 
the  unbending,  sallow,  grim-faced  Italian  was 
less  worthy,  somehow,  of  their  friendship  than 
the  fascinating,  smiling  Frenchman  who  followed 
gayly  in  the  footsteps  of  the  unmagnetic  captain 
toward  their  king.  In  the  presence  of  royalty 
the  advantage  in  address  possessed  by  de  San- 
cerre  over  de  Tonti  was  emphasized  at  once. 
85 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

With  curt  ceremony  the  Italian  had  saluted  the 
smiling,  black-eyed  monarch,  and  had  then  stood 
silent,  gazing  helplessly  upon  the  expectant 
throng  pressing  toward  the  litter,  in  the  vain 
hope  of  finding  some  way  to  communicate  with 
the  royal  sun- worshipper. 

De  Sancerre's  triumphal  progress  toward  the 
throne  had  attracted  the  attention  of  the  Broth 
er  of  the  Sun,  and  the  plaudits  of  his  subjects  had 
led  the  latter  to  believe  that  the  leading  person 
age  among  his  pale-faced  guests  was  now  before 
him.  Falling  gracefully  upon  one  knee,  the 
Frenchman  kissed  the  out-stretched  hand  of  the 
beaming  King  with  a  flourish  and  a  fervor  which 
aroused  the  admiring  multitude  to  a  fresh  out 
burst  of  delighted  shouts. 

"Ma  foi,  your  Majesty!"  exclaimed  de  San- 
cerre,  in  French,  as  he  arose  to  his  feet,  "  the  en 
core  warms  my  blood  like  wine!  I  like  your 
people !  They  see  at  once  the  difference  'twixt 
a  curmudgeon  and  a  cavalier." 

His  eyes  rested  triumphantly  upon  the  counte 
nance  of  the  disconcerted  de  Tonti  for  a  moment, 
and  then  looked  forth  upon  the  sea  of  dusky, 
smiling  faces  upturned  to  his.  Almost  within 
reach  of  his  hand  stood  the  old  woman  who  had 
borne  to  his  bedside  a  welcome  from  the  children 
of  the  sun. 

"Well  met,  sen  ora!"  cried  de  Sancerre,in  Span- 
86 


WELCOME.  CHILDREN    OF  THE    MOON 


ish,  to  the  grinning  hag.  "  Come  to  me  here  ! 
Your  tongue  shall  bind  the  ties  of  love  between 
your  king  and  mine !" 

With  the  quickness  of  perception  which  his 
bright  eyes  indicated,  the  Brother  of  the  Sun 
seemed  to  grasp  the  significance  of  de  Sancerre's 
last  words,  for  he  beckoned  to  the  aged  crone  to 
approach  the  royal  presence.  With  a  rapidity 
of  motion  strangely  out  of  keeping  with  her 
time-worn  appearance,  the  old  woman  reached 
de  Sancerre's  side  on  the  instant,  and,  having 
made  her  obeisance  to  the  throne,  stood  looking 
up  at  the  Frenchman  expectantly.  To  the  lat- 
ter's  astonishment  he  saw  in  her  small,  black, 
beady  eyes  a  gleam  of  saturnine  humor  which 
assured  him  that  between  his  soul  and  hers 
stretched  at  least  one  sympathetic  bond. 

"  Say  to  his  Majesty  for  my  king,  my  people, 
and  myself,"  went  on  de  Sancerre,  in  Spanish, 
holding  the  gaze  of  the  interpreter  to  his,  "that 
our  hearts  beat  with  joy  at  the  welcome  you  ex 
tend  to  us.  Say  to  him  that  the  king  of  kings, 
far  beyond  the  great  water  of  the  sea,  sends 
greeting  to  his  Brother  of  the  Sun,  and  craves 
his  friendship  for  all  time  to  come.  This  much 
at  once ;  but,  later  on,  assure  his  Majesty  I 
hope  to  lay  before  him  plans  and  projects  worthy 
of  his  warlike  fame,  that  he,  your  monarch,  and 
my  king  of  kings  may  know  no  equa.ls  'neath 
87 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

the  sun  and  moon."  De  Sancerre  paused  to  give 
the  interpreter  a  chance  to  turn  his  words  into 
her  native  tongue.  ("  In  sooth,"  he  muttered  to 
himself,  as  he  turned  to  smile  again  upon  the 
no\v  silent  throng  surrounding  the  low  hillock 
upon  which  the  King's  litter  stood,  "  had  I  but 
shown  myself  so  great  a  diplomat  in  France,  I 
might  have  changed  the  map  of  Europe  with  my 
tongue  and  pen.")  "  And  what,  seiiora,  saith  the 
Son  of  Suns?" 

"  He  answers  you  with  words  of  deepest  love," 
answered  the  old  woman,  turning  toward  the 
Frenchman  from  the  royal  sun-worshipper, whose 
dark-hued  face  glowed  with  the  delight  de  San- 
cerre's  adroitly-framed  sentences  had  begotten. 
"  He  offers  the  hand  of  friendship  to  your  king, 
the  Brother  of  the  Moon,  and  will  divide  with 
him  the  waters  and  the  lands  in  perfect  amity. 
He  bids  me  say  to  you  that  in  this  day  the  chil 
dren  of  the  sun  find  glorious  fulfilment  of  an 
cient  prophecies.  Before  the  East  had  parted 
from  the  West,  and  North  and  South  were  wrap 
ped  in  close  embrace,  'twas  told  by  wise,  inspired 
tongues  that  some  day  by  the  waters  of  a  bound 
less  sea  a  goddess  in  deep  sleep,  sent  to  our  peo 
ple  by  the  sun  itself,  would  meet  the  eyes  of 
roving  huntsmen,  wandering  far  afield.  Our 
seers  have  told  us  that  when  she  had  come — 
Coyocop,  the  very  spirit  of  the  sun,  our  god — 
88 


WELCOME,  CHILDREN  OF  THE  MOON 

our  race  would  meet  our  brothers  of  the  moon, 
and  all  the  world  would  bow  beneath  our  yoke." 

De  Sancerre,  impatient  by  temperament,  and 
finding  difficulty  in  fully  understanding  the  dis 
jointed  Spanish  patois  used  by  the  old  woman, 
had  paid  but  little  real  attention  to  this  long 
speech,  in  spite  of  the  attitude  of  absorbed  inter 
est  which  he  had  assumed,  knowing  that  the 
piercing  eyes  of  the  sun's  brother  were  scanning 
his  face  attentively. 

"  Your  name  is,  senora — is — "  he  asked,  as  the 
wrinkled  hag  paused  an  instant  to  regain  her 
breath. 

"  Noco,"  she  answered,  simply. 

"  Dona  Noco,  say  to  his  Majesty  that  others  of 
our  suite  are  approaching  the  throne  to  lay  their 
homage  at  his  feet,  and  that  I,  his  servant,  crave 
further  speech  with  him  anon.  Then,  sefiora,  if 
you  love  me,  draw  aside  a  pace  or  two,  that  I 
may  have  a  word  with  you  alone." 

Hardly  had  de  Sancerre  ceased  to  speak  when 
through  an  opening  in  the  throng  made  by  the 
courteous  sun -worshippers  came  toward  the 
throne  the  gray-frocked  friar,  Zenobe  Membre, 
followed  by  Katonah  and  Chatemuc,  side  by 
side.  The  Franciscan,  chanting  in  a  light  but 
well-rounded  voice  a  Latin  hymn,  bore  aloft  be 
fore  him  a  rudely- carved  wooden  crucifix.  With 
his  large  gray  eyes  raised  to  heaven,  and  his  face 
89 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

radiant  with  the  religious  ecstasy  which  filled 
his  soul,  he  looked,  at  that  moment,  to  the  eyes 
of  the  overwrought  sun-worshippers,  like  a  man 
created  of  shadows  and  moonbeams,  bearing 
toward  their  sovereign  a  mystic  symbol  potent 
for  good  or  ill. 

The  effect  of  the  friar's  dramatic  approach 
upon  the  impressionable  Brother  of  the  Sun 
served  de  Sancerre's  purpose  well.  Unobserved 
by  the  King,  whose  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the 
chanting  priest,  the  Frenchman  seized  this  op 
portunity  to  draw  Noco  aside.  Removing  from 
his  breast  the  piece  of  mulberry-bark  upon  which 
was  scrawled  the  name  of  Julia  de  Aquilar,  he 
asked,  in  a  whisper  which  did  not  disguise  his 
excitement : 

"  Who  wrote  this  name  ?  Tell  me,  Dona  Noco, 
for  the  love  of  God !" 

"  Coyocop,"  muttered  the  hag,  in  a  voice  indi 
cating  the  fear  that  she  felt  of  the  Frenchman's 
impetuosity.  Her  answer  conveyed  no  meaning 
to  the  straining  ear  of  de  Sancerre. 

"Tell  me  more,  good  Noco,"  he  implored, 
glancing  furtively  at  the  Brother  of  the  Sun,  who 
had  arisen  to  greet  the  oncoming  Franciscan. 

"I  dare  not  —  now,"  whispered  Noco,  ner 
vously.  "Anon,  perhaps,  if  the  chance  should 
come." 

With   this  unsatisfactory  promise  the  inter- 

90 


WELCOME,  CHILDREN    OF  THE   MOON 

preter  returned  to  resume  her  duties  at  her  sov 
ereign's  side,  and  de  Sancerre,  mystified  and 
morose,  turned  to  watch  the  efforts  of  Zenobe 
Membre  to  dethrone  the  deified  sun  in  favor  of 
the  true  God. 


CHAPTER  XII 

IN  WHICH  CHATEMUC  FINDS  THE  INSPIEATION  WHICH 
HE    LACKED 

"  'TWAS  as  I  said  it  would  be,  my  Chatemuc," 
exclaimed  Membre,  mournfully,  as  the  friar  o.nd 
his  convert  retired  from  the  immediate  presence 
of  royalty.  "  As  long  as  yonder  temple  protects 
its  hellish  fire,  the  ears  of  this  great  monarch 
will  be  deaf  to  words  of  mine.  Mother  of  God, 
'tis  sad !  He  has  a  noble  face !  I  would  that  I 
might  live  to  shrive  him  of  the  many  sins  his 
haughty  pride  begets !" 

Chatemuc  gave  vent  to  what  might  have  been 
a  pious  groan,  though  it  sounded  to  a  listening 
group  of  sun -worshippers  like  the  grant  of  an 
ill-tempered  man.  The  half -civilized  Mohican 
had  good  reasons  for  his  discontented  mood. 
His  unexpected  discovery  of  a  race  of  native 
Americans  taller,  better  proportioned,  and  seem 
ingly  more  muscular  than  his  kinsmen  of  the 
North,  had  touched  his  sullen  pride.  Further 
more,  Chatemuc  felt  that  he  had  been  made  a 
victim,  at  the  very  foot  of  the  throne,  of  a 
92 


CHATEMUC    FINDS    INSPIRATION 

cleverly  designed  conspiracy.  De  Sancerre  had 
spoken  a  few  words  to  Noco,  and  the  latter  had 
addressed  the  King  himself.  In  his  native  tongue 
the  Great  Sun  had  issued  an  order  which  had 
been  translated  by  Noco  into  Spanish,  and  which 
de  Sancerre  had  turned  into  French  for  the  bene 
fit — or,  rather,  for  the  disturbance  —  of  Chate- 
muc.  The  royal  behest  had  been  uncompromis 
ing  in  its  curt  simplicity.  The  Brother  of  the 
Sun  had  ordered  Noco  to  act  as  hostess  to  Kato- 
nah  during  the  latter's  sojourn  within  his  do 
main.  Annoyed  as  the  Mohican  had  been  at 
this  command,  he  had  reluctantly  recognized  the 
futility  of  an  open  protest  against  the  disposition 
made,  without  his  consent,  of  his  sister.  He  had 
retired  with  the  Franciscan  from  the  group  sur 
rounding  the  King's  litter,  with  a  burning  desire 
in  his  heart  to  make  mischief.  Quick  to  read 
the  mind  of  Chatemuc,  the  gray  friar,  whose 
open  zeal  as  a  proselyter  had  been  changed,  by 
the  Great  Sun's  stubborn  indifference  to  the 
awful  significance  of  the  crucifix,  into  the  craft 
of  a  schemer,  was  now  pouring  into  the  Mohi 
can's  ears  words  emphasizing  the  glories  of  mar 
tyrdom,  and  picturing  the  bliss  which  awaited 
those  who  perished  for  the  cause  of  Mother 
Church.  The  Franciscan  and  his  convert  had 
withdrawn  to  a  sunny  slope  a  few  yards  to  the 
eastward  of  the  flower-strewn  hillock  upon  which 
93 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

the  Brother  of  the  Sun  maintained  the  pomp  of 
royalty. 

Had  the  eyes  and  ears  of  Chatemuc  and 
Membre  been  open  at  that  moment  to  pleasant 
impressions,  they  would  have  found  many  sources 
of  delight  in  their  surroundings.  They  gazed 
upon  a  multicolored  scene  whose  most  striking 
features  they  had  never,  in  their  many  years  of 
forest-travel,  looked  upon  before.  Bright-hued 
flowers,  trees  gay  with  the  blossoms  of  spring, 
birds  whose  brilliant  plumage  suggested  the  possi 
bility  that  a  rainbow,  shattered  into  small  bits, 
had  found  wings  for  the  remnants  of  its  glory, 
and,  over  all,  a  blue  canopy  across  which  floated 
white,  fleecy  playthings  of  the  breeze,  whispered 
in  vain  their  story  of  love  and  peace  to  the  zeal 
ous  friar  and  his  attentive  tool. 

From  the  westward  came  the  inspiring  shouts 
of  the  home-going  multitude  and  the  noise  of 
kettle-drums  helping  the  army  to  keep  perfect 
time  as  it  marched,  a  snow-white  phalanx,  tow 
ard  the  City  of  the  Sun.  From  their  coigne  of 
vantage  Membre  and  the  Mohican  could  see  that 
a  monarch  who  had  snubbed  the  former  and  en 
raged  the  latter  harbored  no  present  intention  of 
following  his  subjects  and  his  army  toward  his 
city.  In  fact,  it  soon  became  apparent  that  the 
Brother  of  the  Sun  was  about  to  regale  his 
guests  with  a  somewhat  pretentious  feast.  Upon 
94 


CHATEMUG    FINDS    INSPIRATION 

litters,  undecorated  and  simple  in  construction, 
servants  belonging  to  the  lowest  social  caste — 
slaves  in  fact,  if  not  by  law — bore  from  the  city 
food  designed  to  give  a  substantial  foundation  to 
the  Great  Surfs  fete  champetre.  Bustling  women 
brought  rudely-constructed  wooden  benches  to 
the  grass -carpeted  banquet -hall  whose  decora 
tions  were  the  flowers  of  spring  and  whose  roof 
was  the  smiling  sky. 

It  was  well  for  the  good  feeling  that  de  San- 
cerre  had  done  so  much  to  strengthen  between 
the  children  of  the  sun  and  moon  that  the  slaves 
made  ready  the  feast  with  great  despatch,  for 
the  inopportune  attempt  of  Zenobe  Membre  to 
convert  the  King  at  one  stroke  from  the  religion 
of  his  ancestors  to  a  faith  whose  mysteries  a 
sign-language  was  impotent  to  explain  had  cast 
a  damper  upon  the  group  surrounding  royalty. 
While  it  was  true  that  the  Great  Sun  had  not 
taken  offence  at  the  inexplicable  demonstration 
made  by  the  zealous  friar,  he  had  become  thought 
ful  and  silent  after  the  retreat  of  Membre  and 
the  Mohican.  To  relieve  the  situation,  Henri  de 
Tonti,  a  soldier  unfitted  either  by  disposition  or 
habit  for  delicate  feats  of  diplomacy,  made  no 
effort.  Upon  his  scarred  and  unsymmetrical 
countenance  rested  an  expression  of  sullen  dis 
content  as  he  stood,  with  folded  arms,  pretend 
ing  to  watch  the  preparations  for  a  feast  for 
95 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

which  he  had  no  heart.  His  jealousy  of  de 
Sancerre  increased  as  he  saw  that,  through  the 
aid  of  Noco's  tongue,  the  courtier  was  tempting 
back  again  the  smile  of  friendly  interest  to  the 
black-eyed  monarch's  face.  Undecided  whether 
to  flee  to  the  hillock  where  her  brother  stood  or 
to  place  herself  in  Noco's  charge,  according  to 
the  King's  command,  Katonah  lingered  irreso 
lutely  by  de  Sancerre's  side,  while  her  heart  beat 
fast  with  the  dread  of  an  impending  peril  whose 
source  she  could  not  divine. 

Presently  the  activity  of  the  slaves  ceased  for 
a  moment,  and  the  master  of  ceremonies — "  le 
maitre  cPhotel"  as  de  Sancerre  dubbed  him  under 
his  breath  —  approached  the  throne  with  arms 
stretched  upward  above  his  head,  and  announced 
in  one  word  that  the  preparations  for  the  ban 
quet  had  been  completed. 

"  Cahani !"  exclaimed  the  Great  Sun,  seating 
himself  upon  a  bench  in  front  of  the  royal  litter, 
and  motioning  to  de  Sancerre  to  take  the  place 
at  his  right  hand.  u  Cahani !  Sit  down !" 

At  the  monarch's  left  stood  Noco,  duenna  and 
interpreter,  a  useful  creature  at  that  moment, 
but  unfitted  by  birth  to  eat  meat  with  her  sover 
eign.  The  Brother  of  the  Sun  smiled  upon  Ka 
tonah,  and  graciously  offered  her  the  second  place 
of  honor  by  his  side.  What  the  maiden's  rank 
among  the  Mohicans  might  be  made  no  differ- 
96 


CHATEMUC    FINDS    INSPIRATION 

ence  at  this  juncture.  She  had  been  honored  by 
the  Great  Sun's  gracious  recognition,  and  from 
that  instant  was  looked  up  to  as  a  princess  by 
the  ceremonious  sun-worshippers,  who  held  that 
their  monarch's  nod  might  serve  as  a  patent  of 
nobility  to  a  stranger  from  an  alien  land.  Among 
themselves,  the  road  from  the  lowest  social  status 
to  the  highest  was  a  hard  one.  To  enter  the 
circle  of  the  nobility,  a  low-caste  man  and  wife 
among  the  children  of  the  sun  must  strangle 
one  of  their  own  offspring,  having  proved,  by  this 
heroic  sacrifice,  their  superiority  to  the  humble 
rank  to  which  birth  had  consigned  them. 

On  the  royal  bench  beyond  Katonah  sat  the 
restless  and  dissatisfied  de  Tonti,  silently  pro 
testing  against  the  turn  which  events  had  taken, 
but  just  now  impotent  to  change  their  course. 
The  Italian  veteran  had  walked  far  since  break 
ing  his  fast,  and  had  undergone  the  exhausting 
conflict  of  many  antagonistic  emotions.  Hunger 
and  thirst  combined  for  the  moment  to  postpone 
the  withdrawal  of  his  followers  from  the  too- 
hospitable  grasp  of  the  sun-worshippers,  but  the 
observant  captain  realized  the  immediate  neces 
sity  of  a  consultation  with  de  la  Salle  before 
proceeding  further  with  negotiations  which  the 
impulsiveness  of  de  Sancerre  might  twist  into 
an  awkward  shape.  De  Tonti  had  started  out 
that  morning  to  visit,  he  had  imagined,  an  insig- 
G  97 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

nificant  tribe  of  friendly  Indians,  and,  behold,  he 
had  come  upon  a  powerful  nation,  equipped  with 
an  arm}^  of  gigantic  warriors  and  endowed  with 
a  civilization  whose  outward  manifestations  were 
extremely  impressive.  Distrustful  of  de  Sancerre, 
and  knowing  well  the  extremes  to  which  Zenobe 
Membre's  zeal  as  a  proselyte r  might  carry  him, 
the  Italian  soldier  scented  danger  in  their  pres 
ent  environment.  He  determined,  therefore,  to 
withdraw  his  followers  from  the  feast  at  an  early 
moment,  to  reject  the  Great  Sun's  proffer  of 
hospitality  for  the  night — which,  he  felt  sure, 
would  be  extended  to  them — and  to  return  to 
de  la  Salle's  camp  by  the  river  as  quickly  as  cir 
cumstances  permitted. 

On  the  small  plateau  below  the  hillock  upon 
which  the  Great  Sun  and  his  guests  sat  in  state 
a  hundred  dusky  noblemen  had  ranged  them 
selves  along  the  benches,  awaiting,  in  solemn 
silence,  the  signal  from  their  monarch  which 
should  reawaken  the  activity  of  the  serving- 
women  and  inaugurate  a  banquet  bidding  fair  to 
last  until  sundown.  The  Great  Sun  had  raised  his 
sceptre  of  painted  feathers  to  indicate  to  his  mas 
ter  of  ceremonies  that  the  time  had  come  for  the 
serving  of  the  first  course,  when  the  royal  eye 
lighted  upon  Zenobe  Membre  and  the  Mohican, 
who  still  stood  upon  a  hillock  beyond  the  furthest 
line  of  benches,  plunged  in  deep  converse. 


CHATEMUC    FINDS    INSPIRATION 

"Go  to  your  friend  who  sings  the  praises  of 
his  god,  the  Moon,"  exclaimed  the  King,  turning 
to  Noco,  who  stood  behind  him  awaiting  his 
pleasure,  and  pointing  his  tawdry  sceptre  tow 
ard  the  Franciscan,  "and  say  to  him  that  the 
Brother  of  the  Sun  invites  him  to  meat  and 
drink.  Have  my  people  make  a  place  for  him, 
and  for  his  captive  who  leans  upon  his  voice.  Go 
quickly,  and  return  to  me  at  once." 

Without  further  delay,  the  monarch  gave  the 
impatiently-awaited  signal  for  the  serving  of  the 
feast,  and  the  hunger  of  his  guests  was  suddenly 
confronted  by  a  throng  of  antagonists,  any  one 
of  which  was  fashioned  to  appease,  in  short  order, 
the  appetite  of  a  European.  The  coarser  meats, 
the  buffalo  steaks  and  the  clumsily  cooked  veni 
son,  were  relieved  by  fish  prepared  for  the  table 
with  some  skill,  and  by  old  corn  made  palatable 
in  a  variety  of  ways.  To  Henri  de  Tonti's  great 
satisfaction,  he  found  that  the  cuisine  of  the  sun- 
worshippers  was  the  most  admirable  which  he 
had  encountered  in  his  long  years  of  pilgrimages 
from  one  native  tribe  to  another. 

It  was  with  a  great  deal  of  reluctance  that  the 
Franciscan  friar,  followed  by  Chatemuc,  had  ac 
cepted  the  invitation  extended  to  him  from  the 
Great  Sun  through  Noco's  overworked  tongue. 
She  had  delivered  her  message  to  the  friar  in  her 
mongrel  Spanish,  and  the  Franciscan's  knowledge 
99 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

of  Latin  had  enabled  him  to  grasp  the  general 
tenor  of  her  words.  He  had  been  endeavoring 
to  throw  upon  the  embers  of  the  Mohican's  re 
ligious  enthusiasm  sufficient  fuel  to  beget  a  flame 
that  should  result  in  immediate  action  of  an 
heroic  nature.  But  while  the  Franciscan  dwelt 
upon  the  glories  of  martyrdom  and  the  splendor 
of  the  rewards  awaiting  a  servant  of  the  Church 
who  gave  his  life  for  the  faith,  fatigue  and  hun 
ger,  having  possessed  themselves  of  Chatemuc's 
earthly  tabernacle,  formed  a  powerful  alliance 
against  that  self-abnegation  which  the  priest 
labored  earnestly  to  arouse  in  the  Mohican's 
soul. 

"  To  eat  meat  with  these  children  of  Satan, 
who  worship  the  very  fires  of  hell,  is,  I  fear,  to 
commit  a  grave  sin,"  remarked  the  friar,  gazing 
upward  at  Chatemuc  dubiously,  as  they  followed 
Noco  toward  the  lower  benches.  Being  a  hun 
gry  barbarian,  not  a  devout  and  learned  contro 
versialist,  the  Mohican  could  vouchsafe  in  an 
swer  to  this  nothing  more  satisfacto^  than  a 
grunt,  a  guttural  comment  upon  the  delicate 
point  raised  by  the  agitated  friar  which  might 
mean  much  or  nothing. 

Seated  at  the  very  outskirts  of  the  picturesque 

throng,  Zenobe  Membre  bent  his  tonsured  head 

and  told  his  beads  for  a  time,  watching  Chatemuc 

furtively  as  the  Mohican  indulged  freely  in  roast- 

100 


CHATEMUC    FINDS    INSPIRATION 

ed  meats,  half-cooked  fish,  and  various  prepara 
tions  made  from  last  year's  corn. 

"How  proudly  yonder  temple  rises  toward 
the  sky,  my  Chatemuc,"  muttered  the  friar, 
glancing  toward  the  City  of  the  Sun.  "  Great 
will  be  the  glory  of  the  hand  chosen  by  the  saints 
to  pull  it  to  the  ground." 

Chatemuc  chewed  a  morsel  of  tough  venison 
and  said  nothing,  but  his  eyes  rested  with  a  hos 
tile  gleam  upon  the  Great  Sun  a  hundred  yards 
beyond  him,  beside  whom  sat  Katonah,  seemingly 
removed  from  her  brother  by  the  breadth  of  a 
mighty  nation.  Suddenly  by  the  Mohican's  side 
appeared  a  serving-woman,  who  placed  upon  the 
bench  at  his  right  hand  a  gourd  containing  a  fer 
mented  liquor  made  of  the  leaves  of  the  cassia- 
tree.  The  increasing  loquacity  of  the  banqueters 
beyond  the  friar  and  his  companion  proved  that 
the  beverage,  which  had  now  reached  them,  pos 
sessed  exhilarating  properties.  If  the  Franciscan 
had  needed  further  evidence  of  the  enlivening 
influence  of  the  seductive  liquor,  which  had  come 
late  to  the  feast  as  an  ally  to  good-fellowship, 
the  change  in  Chatemuc's  face  would  have  offered 
it.  After  emptying  his  gourd  twice  —  for  the 
Mohican  liked  the  cinnamon  flavor  of  the  drink 
— Chatemuc,  flashing  a  glance  of  hatred  at  the 
Great  Sun,  looked  down  at  the  attentive  friar  at 
his  side. 

101 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

t 

"  The  fire  of  hell  shall  burn  no  more  beyond," 
he  said,  jerking  his  hand  toward  the  distant  city,, 
behind  which  the  weary  sun  had  begun  to  creep. 
"  The  oath  I  swore  to  you  shall  be  no  idle  boast." 

Having  observed  that  the  Mohican  liked  the 
wine  she  offered  him,  the  woman  delegated  to 
serve  the  friar  and  his  comrade  refilled  the  lat- 
ter's  gourd  for  the  third  time.  Chatemuc  swal 
lowed  the  fiery  liquor  eagerly,  and  turned  to 
speak  a  final  word  to  the  priest. 

At  that  instant  Zenobe  Membre's  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  the  royal  group  beyond  him.  The 
Great  Sun  had  arisen  and  stood  waving  his 
feathered  sceptre  energetically,  while  he  gazed 
down  at  Noco,  to  whom  he  seemed  to  be  talking 
with  some  excitement.  Gazing  up  at  the  King, 
with  a  satirical  smile  upon  his  delicate  face,  sat 
de  Sancerre,  while  de  Tonti  had  sprung  to  his 
feet  with  an  expression  of  anger  upon  his  coun 
tenance. 

When  the  friar  turned  to  address  Chatemuc, 
he  discovered  that  the  Mohican  had  left  his  side 
and  had  been  lost  to  sight  in  the  long  shadows 
of  the  stealthy  twilight. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

IN    WHICH    DE    SANCERRE    RUNS    A    STUBBORN    RACE 

IT  is  but  fair  to  the  memory  of  a  noble,  if  some 
what  too  impetuous  proselyter,  to  say  that  if  Ze- 

nobe  Membre — whose  achievements  and  suffer- 

« 

ings  entitle  him  to  all  praise — had  realized  that 
martyrdom,  the  rewards  for  which  he  had  painted 
in  such  glowing  colors,  really  menaced  the  aroused 
Mohican,  he  would  have  weighed  his  words  with 
greater  care.  But  the  gray  friar  had  long  been 
in  the  habit  of  using  heroic  language  to  stir  the 
soul  of  Chatemuc  to  religious  enthusiasm,  and  he 
had  not,  as  yet,  found  cause  to  regret  the  use 
which  he  had  made  for  years  of  his  pliable  con 
vert.  Furthermore,  the  Franciscan  placed  abso 
lute  confidence  in  the  Mohican's  ability  to  take 
good  care  of  his  red  skin.  He  had  seen  the  craft 
of  Chatemuc  overcome  appalling  odds  too  many 
times  to  long  indulge  the  fear  that  the  Indian's 
sudden  disappearance  at  this  juncture  presaged 
disaster.  Nevertheless,  he  regretted  that  his  con 
vert  had  set  out  upon  a  mission  of  some  peril 
with  such  unwonted  precipitanc}7.  The  friar 

103 


WITH    SWORD   AND    CRUCIFIX 

would  have  felt  better  satisfied  with  himself  if 
he  had  been  permitted  to  breathe  a  word  of  cau 
tion  into  Chatemuc's  ear  before  the  latter  had 
gone  forth  upon  his  lonely  crusade  against  the 
fires  of  hell. 

"  At  the  worst,"  muttered  the  Franciscan  to 
himself,  as  he  made  his  way  toward  the  royal 
litter  between  lines  of  black-eyed,  smiling  sun- 
worshippers — "  at  the  worst,  it  would  be  one  life 
for  Paradise  and  a  nation  for  the  Church  !  May 
the  saints  be  with  my  Chatemuc  !  If  he  won  a 
martyr's  crown,  his  blood  would  quench  a  tire 
which  Satan  keeps  alive.  But  Mother  Mary 
aid  him  !  I  love  him  well !  I'd  lose  my 
right  hand  to  save  my  Chatemuc  from  death  ! 
May  Christ  assoil  me  if  so  my  words  were 
rash  1" 

Thus  communing  with  himself,  the  Francis 
can  approached  the  excited  group  surrounding 
royalty. 

"  Mafoi,  good  father,  you  come  to  us  most  op 
portunely  !"  cried  de  Sancerre,  springing  to  his 
feet,  a  smile  upon  his  lips  but  a  gleam  of  re 
pressed  anger  in  his  eyes.  "  Monsieur  de  Tonti 
is  bent  upon  repaying  his  Majesty's  hospitality 
with  marked  ingratitude.  He  orders  us — coura 
geous  captain  that  he  is — to  return  at  once  to 
Sieur  de  la  Salle.  As  for  me,  I  have  promised 
the  Brother  of  the  Sun  to  pass  the  night  in  yon- 
104 


A    STUBBORN    RACE 

der  city — to  the  greater  glory  of  our  sire,  the 
moon  !" 

Henri  de  Tonti,  a  black  frown  upon  his  brow, 
had  overheard  the  Frenchman's  sarcastic  words. 
Seizing  the  friar  by  the  arm,  he  flashed  a  glance 
of  rage  and  menace  at  the  exasperating  de  San- 
cerre,  and  drew  the  Franciscan  aside,  to  lay  be 
fore  him  weighty  arguments  in  favor  of  an  im 
mediate  retreat  to  the  river. 

Meanwhile  the  younger  men  among  the  sun- 
worshipping  nobility,  moved  by  the  same  cin 
namon-flavored  inspiration  which  had  driven 
Chatemuc  toward  a  Satan-lighted  fire,  had  aban 
doned  the  scene  of  the  recent  feast  to  indulge  in 
athletic  rivalries  on  the  greensward  which  un 
dulated  gently  between  the  outskirts  of  the  forest 
and  the  City  of  the  Sun. 

"  Will  you  say  to  his  Majesty,  senora,"  cried 
de  Sancerre,  gayly,  drawing  near  to  the  Great 
Sun  and  addressing  Noco,  "that  he  has  reason  to 
be  proud  of  the  prowess  of  his  young  men?  I 
have  never  watched  a  more  exciting  wrestling- 
bout  than  yonder  struggle  between  those  writh 
ing  giants.  It  is  inspiring  !  It  is  classic  !  Could 
Girardon  carve  a  fountain  from  that  Grecian  con 
test  over  there,  'twould  add  another  marvel  to 
Versailles. " 

The  Brother  of  the  Sun  smiled  down  upon  de 
Sancerre  with  warm  cordiality  as  the  aged  inter- 

105 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

preter,  having  caught  the  general  drift  of  the 
Frenchman's  words,  turned  his  praise  into  her 
native  tongue!  The  monarch's  momentary  an 
noyance  at  Henri  de  Tonti's  lack  of  tact  had 
passed  away,  and,  standing  erect,  a  right  royal 
figure  on  his  flower- bedecked  dais,  he  watched, 
with  unconcealed  pride,  the  skilful  feats  writh 
bow-and-arrow  performed  by  the  sun-worshipping 
aristocrats  and  the  prodigies  of  strength  which 
the  wrestlers  and  stone-hurlers  accomplished. 

"  Tell  me,  Dona  Noco,"  exclaimed  de  Sancerre 
presently,  at  the  conclusion  of  a  closely-contested 
foot-race,  which  even  the  distraught  and  restless 
Katonah,  searching  vainly  with  her  e}7es  for 
Chatemuc,  had  watched  for  a  moment  with  bated 
breath — "tell  me  the  name  of  yonder  greyhound, 
carved  in  bronze,  who  smiles  so  disdainfully  upon 
the  victor.  I  have  never  before  seen  a  youth 
whose  legs  and  shoulders  seemed  to  be  so  well 
fashioned  by  nature  to  outstrip  the  wind  itself. 
Why  does  he  not  compete  ?" 

The  shrivelled  crone  grinned  with  delight. 

"  That  is  my  grandson,  Cabanacte,"  she  an 
swered,  proudly.  "  He's  now  a  nobleman,  for,  at 
the  risk  of  life,  he  bore  the  spirit  of  the  sun  to 
us.  The  whirlwind  cannot  catch  him.  The  fall 
ing-star  seems  slow  behind  his  feet.  He  stands, 
in  pride,  alone  ;  for  none  dare  challenge  him." 

A  flush  crept  into  the  pale  face  of  the  French- 
106 


A    STUBBORN    RACE 

man  as  his  sparkling  eyes  garnered  with  delight 
all  the  inspiring  features  of  the  scene  before  him, 
features  which  formed  at  that  moment  a  picture 
reminding  him  of  the  glory  of  ancient  Athens, 
the  splendors  of  a  pagan  cult  which  found  in 
strength  and  beauty  idols  worthy  of  adoring  tri 
bute.  The  passing  day  breathed  a  golden  bless 
ing  upon  the  City  of  the  Sun,  which  gleamed  in 
the  distance  like  a  dream  of  Greece  in  the  old, 
heroic  days.  De  Sancerre,  well-read  and  impres 
sionable,  mused  for  a  moment  upon  the  strange 
likeness  of  the  scene  before  him  to  a  painting 
that  he  had  gazed  upon,  in  a  land  far  over-sea, 
representing  Attic  athletes  engaged  in  classic 
games  beneath  a  stately  temple  behind  which  the 
sun  had  hid  its  weary  face.  Awakening  from 
his  day-dreams,  he  turned  toward  Noco  and  ad 
dressed  her  in  a  voice  which  made  his  Spanish 
most  impressive. 

"  Go  to  Cabanacte,  sefiora,  and  say  to  him 
that  Count  Louis  de  Sancerre  of  Languedoc  — 
the  fairest  province  in  the  silver  moon — dares 
him  to  a  test  of  speed,  the  course  to  run  from 
here  to  yonder  lonely  tree,  near  to  the  city's  gate, 
and  back  again." 

A  grin  of  mingled  admiration  and  amazement 

lighted  the  old  hag's  face  as  she  turned  toward 

the  King  and  repeated  to  him  his  guest's  daring 

defiance  of  a  runner  whose  superiority  no  sun- 

107 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

worshipper  had  cared  to  test  for  many  waning 
moons.  A  courteous  smile  played  across  the 
firm,  well-cut  mouth  of  the  Great  Sun  as  he  lis 
tened  to  Noco's  words,  but  the  scornful  gleam  in 
his  black  eyes  as  they  rested  upon  the  French 
man's  slender,  under-sized  figure  was  not  lost 
upon  the  observant  challenger.  De  Sancerre 
realized  fully  that  he  had  placed  in  jeopardy  his 
influence  with  the  Brother  of  the  Sun  by  risking 
a  trial  of  speed  with  a  youth  whose  fleetness  he 
had  had,  as  yet,  no  means  of  gauging.  If  he 
should  be  outstripped  by  Cabanacte  the  good 
will  of  the  Great  Sun  would  be  changed  to  con 
tempt,  and  the  relationship  of  host  to  guests, 
already  disturbed  by  de  Tonti's  lack  of  tact, 
might  be  transformed  into  that  of  a  victor  to  his 
captives.  What,  then,  would  become  of  de  San- 
cerre's  efforts  to  solve  the  mystery  to  which  old 
JSToco  held  the  key  ? 

But  de  Sancerre,  always  self-confident,  placed 
absolute  faith  in  the  elasticity  of  his  light,  ner 
vous  frame,  whose  muscles  had  been  hardened 
by  his  campaigns  over-sea  and  by  his  wanderings 
with  de  la  Salle.  No  fleeter  foot  than  his  had 
been  found  in  the  sport-loving  army  of  Turenne, 
and  he  had  been  as  much  admired  in  camps  for 
his  agility  as  at  courts  for  his  grace.  If,  per 
chance,  he  should  outrun  the  stalwart  Cabanacte, 
de  Sancerre  felt  sure  that  his  easily- won  popu- 
108 


A    STUBBORN    RACE 

larity  with  these  impressionable  sun-worshippers 
would  be  placed  upon  a  much  more  stable  foun 
dation  than  its  present  underpinning  of  smiles 
and  courtly  bows. 

"  My  grandson,  Cabanacte,  sends  greeting  to 
the  envoy  of  the  moon,"  panted  Noco,  returning 
speedily  to  de  Sancerre's  side,  "  and  will  gladly 
chase  the  wind  with  him  in  friendly  rivalry.  He 
bids  me  say  that  night  falls  quickly  when  the 
sun  has  set  and  that  he  craves  your  presence  at 
this  moment  on  the  course." 

Making  a  courteous  obeisance  to  the  Brother 
of  the  Sun,  de  Sancerre  was  about  to  hasten  to 
the  side  of  his  gigantic  adversary,  who,  stripped 
almost  to  nakedness,  stood  awaiting  his  chal 
lenger,  when  he  felt  a  detaining  hand  upon  his 
arm,  and,  turning  petulantly,  looked  into  Kato- 
nah's  agitated  face. 

"  Chatemuc !  My  brother  !  I  cannot  see  him 
anywhere !" 

u  Fear  not,  ma  petite"  exclaimed  de  Sancerre, 
cheerily.  "  Wait  here  until  I've  made  this  sun 
baked  Mercury  imagine  he's  a  snail,  and  we'll 
find  your  kinsman  of  the  joyous  face.  'Twould 
break  my  heart  to  lose  the  gay  and  smiling 
Chatemuc !  Adieu  !  I  go  to  victory,  or,  per 
haps,  to  death  !  Pray  to  Saint  Maturin  for  me, 
Katonah !  He  watches  over  fools !" 

A  great  shout  arose  from  the  sun-worshippers 
109 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

as  de  Sancerre  and  Cabanacte,  saluting  each 
other  with  ceremonious  respect,  stood  side  by 
side  awaiting  the  signal  for  their  flight  toward 
the  distant  tree  which  marked  the  turning-point 
in  the  course  which  they  were  about  to  run. 
The  Frenchman,  attired  in  tattered  velvets  and 
wearing  shoes  never  designed  for  the  use  of  an 
athlete,  seemed  to  be  at  that  moment  handicapped 
by  both  nature  and  art  for  the  race  awaiting  him. 
Almost  a  pygmy  beside  the  bronze  giant,  whose 
limbs  would  have  driven  sleep  from  a  sculptor's 
couch,  de  Sancerre  had  apparently  chosen  well 
in  asking  Katonah  for  an  invocation  to  the  saint 
who  protects  fools  from  the  outcome  of  their 
folly.  The  black-eyed  sun-worshippers  glanced 
at  each  other  in  smiling  derision.  Surely,  these 
children  of  the  moon  must  eat  at  night  of  some 
plant  or  fruit  which  stirred  their  blood  to  mad 
ness  when  they  wandered  far  afield  !  No  dwarf 
would  dare  to  measure  strides  with  a  colossus  un 
less,  indeed,  he'd  lost  his  wits  through  midnight 
revelry  in  moonlit  glades!  This  white -faced, 
queerly-dressed,  and  most  presumptuous  rival  of 
the  mighty  Cabanacte  might  smile  and  bow  and 
gain  the  ear  of  kings,  but  look  upon  him  now, 
with  head  bent  forward,  waiting  for  the  word ! 
Fragile,  petite,  thin  in  the  shanks,  and  with  a 
chest  a  boy  might  scorn,  he  dares  to  measure 
strides  with  a  sturdy  demigod  who  towers 
110 


A    STUBBORN    RACE 

above  him,  a  giant  shadow  in  the  gloaming 
there! 

A  howl  from  the  overwrought  throng  shook 
the  leaves  upon  the  trees.  The  runners  had 
sprung  from  the  line  at  a  cry  and,  elbow  to  el 
bow,  were  speeding  toward  the-  distant  tree. 
Falling  back  to  Cabanacte's  flank,  de  Sancerre, 
seeming  to  grow  taller  as  he  ran,  and  using  his 
feet  with  a  nimbleness  and  grace  which  empha 
sized  the  clumsiness  of  his  fleet  rival's  tread,  hung 
with  ease  upon  the  giant's  pace,  moving  with  a 
rhythmical  smoothness  which  indicated  reserved 
power.  Through  the  twilight  toward  the  city 
rushed  the  courtier  and  the  savage,  made  equals 
at  that  moment  by  the  levelling  spirit  of  a  manly 
sport,  while  the  onlookers  stood,  eager-eyed  and 
silent,  watching  with  amazement  the  pertinacity 
of  the  lithe  Frenchman  who  so  stubbornly  kept 
the  pace  behind  their  yet  unconquered  champion. 

As  the  racers  turned  the  tree  marking  the  half 
of  their  swift  career,  the  dusky  patriots  saw,  with 
growing  consternation,  that  the  child  of  moon 
beams  still  sped  gayly  along  behind  the  stalwart, 
wavering  figure  of  a  son  of  suns.  The  pace  set 
by  Cabanacte  had  been  heartrending  from  the 
start,  for  he  had  cherished  the  conviction  that 
he  would  be  able  to  shake  off  his  puny  rival  long 
before  the  turn  for  home  was  made.  But  ever 
as  he  strove  to  increase  his  lead  the  bronze-tinted 
ill 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

athlete  heard,  just  behind  his  shoulder,  the  dainty 
footfalls  of  a  light-waited,  wiry,  bold -hearted 
antagonist,  who  panted  not  in  weariness  behind 
the  champion  after  the  manner  of  his  rivals  of 
other  days.  Out  of  the  glowing  West  came  the 
racers  side  by  side,  every  step  a  contest  as  they 
struggled  toward  the  goal. 

u  Cabanacte !  Cabanacte  !"  cried  the  sun-wor 
shippers,  mad  with  the  fear  that  the  dwarf  might 
outrun  the  giant  at  the  last.  For  the  Frenchman 
had  crept  up  from  behind  and  was  now  speeding 
homeward  on  even  terms  with  his  delirious,  reel 
ing,  wind-blown,  but  still  unconquered  rival. 
For  a  hundred  yards  the  racers  fought  their  fight 
b}7  inches,  each  marvelling  in  his  aching  mind  at 
the  stern  persistence  of  his  antagonist.  Then, 
when  the  strain  grew  greater  than  human  mus 
cles  could  endure,  the  bursting  heart  of  de  San- 
cerre  seemed  to  ease  its  awful  pressure  upon  his 
chest,  his  faltering  steps  regained  their  light  and 
graceful  motion,  and,  passing  Cabanacte  as  the 
latter  glanced  up  with  eyes  bloodshot  with  long 
ing,  the  Frenchman,  with  a  gay  smile  upon  his 
pallid  face,  rushed  past  the  line,  a  winner  of  the 
race  by  two  full  yards. 

The  hot,  generous  blood  of  the  sun- worshippers 
bounded  in  their  veins  as  they  seized  the  totter 
ing  victor  and,  with  shouts  of  wonder  and  ac 
claim,  raised  him  to  their  shoulders  and  bore 
112 


A    STUBBORN    RACE 

him,  a  wonder-worker  in  their  eyes,  to  the  smil 
ing  presence  of  their  astonished  king.  But  be 
fore  de  Sancerre  could  receive  the  congratula 
tions  of  the  Brother  of  the  Sun,  the  voice  of 
Katonah  had  reached  him  over  the  heads  of  the 
excited  patricians. 

"  Monsieur,"  cried  the  Mohican  maiden,  in 
French,  her  voice  vibrating  with  excitement, 
"  Pere  Membre  and  Monsieur  de  Tonti  have 
set  out  for  the  camp,  and  Chatemuc  has  not 
returned !" 

"Peste;  ma  petite!"  exclaimed  de  Sancerre, 
blowing  her  a  kiss  over  the  turmoil  of  black 
heads  beneath  him.  "  Why  trouble  me  with 
trifles  such  as  these?  See  you  not  that  a  splin 
ter  from  a  moonbeam  has  put  the  sun  to  shame 
—to  the  greater  glory  of  our  Mother  Church. 
Laitde,  Katonah!  Laude  et  jubilate /" 


CHAPTER   XIV 


ABE    SEEN 

"  COURAGE,  ma  petite!  We'll  find  your  Chate- 
muc;  then  learn  the  mysteries  of  yonder  sun- 
kissed  town.  That  the  stubborn  captain  has 
deserted  us  is  hardly  strange.  Always  in  fear 
of  de  la  Salle's  displeasure,  Monsieur  de  Tonti 
has  grown  erratic,  unreliable,  jealous.  As  for 
the  friar,  his  retreat  surprises  me.  He  lacks  not 
courage  nor  persistence.  He  would  not  leave 
our  brother  of  the  sun  without,  at  the  least,  one 
more  attempt  to  show  him  the  path  which  leads 
to  Mother  Church. " 

Released  from  the  enthusiastic  arms  of  the 
noblemen  who  had  carried  him  in  triumph  to 
their  king,  de  Sancerre  was  now  following  the 
royal  litter  toward  the  City  of  the  Sun,  walking 
the  well-beaten  path  with  the  mincing  step  of  a 
courtier  whose  feet,  though  swifter  than  the 
winds,  pay  homage  gayly  to  Grace  as  a  worthier 
deity  than  Speed.  On  either  side  of  the  victo 
rious  runner,  whose  eyes  still  glowed  with  the 
114 


RESULTS  OF  CHATEMUC'S  ENTHUSIASM 

joy  of  triumph,  walked  Noco  and  Katonah.  The 
latter,  downcast  and  apprehensive,  gazed  gloom 
ily  toward  the  city,  whose  roofs  could  now  be 
plainly  seen,  while  she  listened  apathetically  to 
the  Frenchman's  encouraging  words.  Changing 
the  tongue  he  used  from  French  to  Spanish,  de 
Sancerre,  turning  toward  Noco,  who  looked,  in 
the  twilight,  like  a  hideous  heathen  idol  carved 
in  mahogany,  said  : 

"  I  trust,  senora,  that  your  courageous  grand 
son,  my  very  worthy  opponent,  will  bear  me  no 
ill-will  because  my  slender  body  was  less  a  burden 
than  his  giant  frame." 

Koco,  to  whom  de  Sancerre' s  overthrow  of 
the  erstwhile  invincible  Cabanacte  had  appeared 
like  a  miracle  wrought  b}^  some  mysterious  moon- 
magic,  gazed  reverentially  at  the  Frenchman  with 
beady,  black  eyes,  which  seemed  to  be  fully  half 
a  century  younger  than  the  other  features  of  her 
wrinkled  face.  Her  countenance  was  a  palimp 
sest,  with  youth  staring  out  from  beneath  the 
writings  made  by  time. 

"  My  grandson,  Cabanacte,  O  Son  of  the  Full 
Moon,  will  ever  do  your  bidding  with  a  loyal 
heart.  According  to  the  customs  of  our  land, 
your  triumph  in  the  race  entitles  you  to  service 
at  his  hands  until  his  feet  wax  swift  enough  to 
fly  away  from  yours." 

"  Caramba !"   exclaimed  de    Sancerre,  whose 

115 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

expletives  bore  testimony  to  the  cosmopolitan 
tendencies  of  his  adventurous  career,  "your  words, 
senora,  rejoice  my  heart!  I  stand  in  sore  need 
of  a  servitor  to  save  me  from  the  nakedness  which 
one  more  heated  foot-race  would  beget.  If  Cab- 
anacte  can  repair  the  rents  which  make  my  cos 
tume  such  a  marvel  to  the  eye,  I'll  free  him  from 
his  villein  socage  and  make  him  proud  again." 

Enough  of  this  the  old  hag  understood — en 
lightened,  to  a  great  extent,  by  the  Frenchman's 
eloquent  gestures — to  emphasize  the  grin  upon 
her  ugly  but  intelligent  face. 

O    */  O 

"  Cabanacte  is  a  warrior,  not  a  maker  of  flow 
ing  robes!"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  raucous  chuckle. 
"  But  to-night  old  Noco  will  repair  the  holes  in 
the  Son  of  the  Full  Moon's  garb.  Look  at  this." 
Fumbling  at  her  waist,  she  presently  held  out  to 
de  Sancerre's  gaze  a  needle  made  of  fish-bone. 
Lowering  her  voice,  she  said :  "  Coyocop,  the 
spirit  of  the  sun,  has  not  disdained  to  let  my 
needle  prick  her  sacred  dress.  She  weeps,  and 
cares  for  nothing  but  to  lie  upon  her  couch  and 
whisper  secrets  to  the  mother  of  the  sun.  'Tis 
sad,  but  so  she  must  fulfil  her  mission  to  our 
race.  Our  nation's  wise  men  and  the  priests  who 
tend  the  temple-fire  had  told  us  she  would  come. 
My  grandson,  Cabanacte,  bore  her  from  the  sea." 

De  Sancerre  listened  attentively  to  the  old 
crone's  words.  He  recalled  Noco's  assertion  that 

116 


RESULTS   OF   CHATEMUC'S    ENTHUSIASM 

Coyocop  had  scrawled  his  inamorata's  name  upon 
the  mulberry  bark,  though,  at  the  time,  he  had 
not  grasped  the  full  significance  of  her  mumbled, 
mongrel -Spanish  words,  rendered  less  clear  to 
him  by  the  use  of  the  meaningless  name,  Coyo 
cop.  But  now,  as  they  hurried  on  behind  the 
porters  who  carried  the  King's  litter,  followed 
by  a  hundred  chattering  noblemen,  a  veil  seemed 
to  be  lifted  from  de  Sancerre's  mind.  His  heart 
beat  with  suffocating  rapidity,  and  his  voice  trem 
bled  as  he  looked  down,  at  Noco,  trying  to  catch 
her  eyes  in  the  darkening  twilight,  and  exclaimed : 

u  'Twas  Coyocop  who  scratched  that  name 
upon  the  bark?  But  why,  good  Doiia  ISToco? 
Tell  me  why." 

The  old  woman  glanced  over  her  shoulder,  to 
assure  herself  that  they  could  not  be  overheard. 
Then  she  whispered  : 

u  I  told  her  the  white-faced  children  of  the 
moon  had  come  to  us  upon  the  bosom  of  the 
flood,  according  to  an  ancient  prophecy.  The 
temple-priests  would  strangle  me  with  cords  if 
they  should  learn  how  my  old  tongue  has  wagged. 
They  watch  me  closely,  for  they  worship  her. 
But  once  she  found  a  moment,  when  no  priest 
was  near,  to  scratch  the  mystic  symbols  on  the 
bark.  I  crept  away  at  night  and,  lo,  }^our  god, 
the  moon,  was  guide  to  my  old  feet — and,  so,  I 
came  to  you  from  Coyocop." 
117 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

That  Noco  had  told  him  all  she  had  to  tell,  the 
Frenchman  did  not  for  a  moment  doubt.  But, 
even  then,  she  had  thrown  little  light  upon  the 
mystery  which  confronted  him.  A  mondain  to 
his  finger-tips,  at  heart  a  sceptic,  de  Sancerre 
fostered  no  belief  in  miracles.  Surrounded,  as 
he  had  been  all  the  days  of  his  life,  by  men  and 
women  steeped  in  superstition,  his  spirit  had  re 
volted  at  the  impostures  which  had  served  to 
blind  mankind  through  centuries  of  human  his 
tory.  Had  de  Sancerre  been  wrought  of  the  stuff 
of  which  his  age  was  made,  he  would  have  reached 
the  conclusion  at  once  that  here  in  the  wilder- 
ness  the  avenging  spirit  of  the  Spaniard  whom  he 
had  slain  in  France  was  haunting  him  at  night  to 
play  him  tricks  to  drive  him  straight  to  madness. 
'Twould  be  so  easy  to  account  thus  for  what  his 
reason  could  not  now  explain.  But  de  Sancerre 
was  a  man  Avho,  intellectually,  had  pressed  on  in 
advance  of  his  times.  By  policy  a  conformist  to 
the  exterior  demands  of  his  avowed  religion,  he 
had  long  lost  his  faith  in  the  active  interference 
in  earthly  affairs  of  saints  and  devils.  How  the 
name  of  Julia  de  Aquilar  had  found  its  way  to  a 
piece  of  vagrom  bark  in  a  wilderness,  thousands 
of  miles  across  the  sea  from  the  land  of  her 
nativity,  he  could  not  explain,  nor  could  he  har 
bor,  for  an  instant,  the  wild  idea  that  Coyocop 
and  his  inamorata  would  prove  to  be  identical. 
118 


RESULTS   OF  CHATEMUC'S   ENTHUSIASM 

In  spite  of  the  malicious  horns  of  his  dilemma, 
nevertheless,  he  eliminated  from  his  thoughts 
the  possibility  that  he  had  become  the  play 
thing  of  supernatural  agencies.  But  who  was 
Coyocop  ?  He  must  look  upon  her  face  without 
delay. 

"  Senora,  listen  !"  exclaimed  de  Sancerre,  seiz 
ing  Noco  by  the  arm.  "  I  must  see  the  spirit  of 
the  stin  to-night !  From  the  mountains  of  the 
moon,  where  reigns  our  god  in  silvery  state,  I 
bear  a  message  to  the  goddess  Coyocop.  Peste, 
Dona  ISToco  1  Have  you  gone  to  sleep  ?"  He 
shook  her  gently,  striving  hard  to  find  her 
eyes. 

"  It  cannot  be,"  muttered  the  old  crone,  trem 
bling  under  his  grasp  as  if  the  night-wind  chilled 
her  time-worn  frame — "it  cannot  be.  'T  would 
mean  your  life — and  mine." 

"Hold,  senora!  Remember  Cabanacte — and 
pin  your  faith  to  me !  JSTo  matter  what  the  odds 
may  be,  the  brother  of  the  moonbeams  always 
wins !  Bear  that  in  mind,  good  Nocc,  or  the 
future  may  grow  black  for  thee.  Be  faithful  to 
my  fortunes — and  I'll  make  your  grandson  noble 


once  again." 


How  deep  an  impression  his  words  had  made 

upon  the  beldame,  de  Sancerre  could  not  tell,  for 

at  that  moment  there  arose  behind  him  a  weird 

chant,  sung  by  a  hundred  tuneful  voices,  rising 

119 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

and  falling  upon  the  evening  air  with  thrilling 
effect.  Suddenly  beyond  them  from  the  very 
heart  of  the  City  of  the  Sun  arose  a  mightier 
chorus  than  the  King's  suite  could  beget,  and  the 
night  grew  vibrant  with  a  wild,  menacing  song 
which  chilled  de  Sancerre's  heart  and  caused 
Katonah  to  press  close  to  his  side,  in  vain  striv 
ing  for  the  comfort  she  could  not  find. 

Presently  the  litter  of  the  King,  passing  be 
tween  two  outlying  houses,  turned  into  a  broad 
avenue  which  led  directly  to  the  great  square  of 
the  city,  at  one  side  of  which  stood  the  temple 
of  the  sun.  The  moon  had  not  yet  arisen,  and 
what  was  twilight  in  the  open  had  turned  to 
night  within  the  confines  of  the  town.  De  San- 
cerre,  who  was  a  close  observer,  both  by  tempera 
ment  and  by  habit,  strove  in  vain  to  obtain  a 
satisfactory  view  of  the  dwelling-houses  between 
which  the  royal  litter  passed.  But  when  the 
King  and  his  followers  had  reached  the  outskirts 
of  the  great  square,  the  Frenchman  forgot  at  once 
his  curiosity  as  a  traveller;  forgot,  even  for  a 
moment,  the  problem  to  solve  which  he  had  dared 
to  enter  this  pagan  city,  in  defiance  of  all  disci 
pline  and  in  direct  disobedience  to  La  Salle's  lieu 
tenant.  The  scene  which  broke  upon  his  staring 
eyes  stilled,  for  an  instant,  the  beating  of  his 
heart,  which  seemed  to  bound  into  his  throat  to 
choke  him. 

120 


RESULTS    OF   CHATEMUC'S    ENTHUSIASM 

The  square  between,  the  King's  litter  and  the 
entrance  to  the  temple  was  thronged  with  men 
and  women,  in  front  of  whom  stood  long  lines  of 
stalwart  warriors,  the  flower  of  the  army  which 
had  recently  astonished  the  eyes  of  the  wanderers 
from  over-sea.  Waving  lights  and  shadows,  the 
quarrelsome  offspring  of  flaring  torches,  changed 
constantly  the  grim  details  of  the  scene,  as  if  the 
night  wind  strove  to  hide  the  horrors  of  a  dancing, 
evil  dream. 

Directly  in  front  of  the  main  entrance  to  the 
temple  of  the  sun-worshippers  stood  a  post  to 
which  Chatemuc  had  been  tied  by  cords.  On 
either  side  of  him  white-robed  priests,  wielding 
long  wooden  rods,  the  ends  of  which  had  been 
turned  to  red  coals  in  the  sacred  fire,  prodded  his 
hissing  flesh,  while  they  sang  a  chant  of  devilish 
triumph,  in  which  the  populace,  enraged  at  the 
sacrilege  attempted  by  the  Mohican,  joined  at 
intervals. 

Facing  the  dying  martyr,  who  gazed  down  at 
him  with  proud  stoicism,  knelt  the  gray-frocked 
Franciscan,  Zenobe  Membre,  holding  toward  the 
victim  of  excessive  zeal  the  crude  crucifix,  for 
love  of  which  Chatemuc,  the  Mohican,  was  now 
freeing  his  soul  from  torment. 

"  Nom  de  Dieu !"  cried  de  Sancerre,  placing 
his  hand  upon  his  rapier,  "  this  savage  sport  must 
end!"  In  another  instant  the  reckless  French- 
121 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

man,  carving  his  way  to  death,  would  have  chal 
lenged  an  army,  single-handed,  had  not  Katonah, 
reeling  from  the  horror  of  her  brother's  death, 
fallen  senseless  into  his  reluctant  arms. 


CHAPTER  XV 

IN   WHICH    THE    GKAY    FRIAR     DONS     THE     LIVERY    OF 
SATAN 

"  IT  was  a  miracle !  A  voice  from  heaven 
whispered  in  my  ear,  and,  turning  back,  I  left 
de  Tonti,  angry,  threatening,  to  take  his  way 
alone.  To  give  my  Chatemuc  the  words  of  ab 
solution  at  the  last,  the  Virgin  Mother  led  me  by 
the  hand.  And  no\v  in  Paradise  he  wears  a 
martyr's  crown.  The  saints  be  praised  !" 

The  earnest  eyes  of  the  Franciscan  were  turned 
upward  in  an  ecstasy  of  gratitude  and  devotion. 
Seated  upon  a  wooden  bench  by  the  gray  friar's 
side,  de  Sancerre  listened  musingly  to  Membre's 
account  of  the  Italian  captain's  attempt  to  entice 
him  back  to  de  la  Salle's  camp  before  he  had 
learned  the  outcome  of  Chatemuc's  effort  to  ex 
tinguish  a  flame  from  hell. 

Noco,  well  understanding  the  present  temper 
of  the  sun-worshipping  priesthood,  and  acting 
upon  a  command  given  to  her  by  the  Great  Sun 
himself,  had  managed,  with  considerable  diffi 
culty,  to  persuade  de  Sancerre  and  Katonah  to 

123 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

secrete  themselves  for  a  time  in  her  unpretentious 
but  not  comfortless  hut.  Her  rescue  of  Zenobe 
Membre  from  his  threatening  environment  at  the 
martj^red  Mohican's  side  had  been,  she  flattered 
herself,  a  triumph  of  adroitness,  and  she  sat  in  a 
dark  corner  of  the  room  at  this  moment  whisper 
ing  to  her  gigantic  grandson,  Cabanacte,  warm 
praise  of  her  own  cleverness.  She  had  saved 
the  Franciscan  from  the  immediate  vengeance 
of  the  sun- worshipping  priests  by  suggesting  to 
the  latter  that  the  summary  execution  of  the 
gray-frocked  singer  of  unorthodox  chants  might 
arouse  the  anger  of  Coyocop,  whose  coming, 
prophecy  had  told  them,  was  connected,  in  some 
occult  way,  with  the  predicted  advent  of  the 
white-faced  envoys  from  the  moon.  Sated  with 
the  cruel  entertainment  vouchsafed  to  them  by 
the  death-twitchings  of  the  stoical  Chatemuc,  the 
white -robed  guardians  of  the  sun -temple  had 
permitted  the  Franciscan  to  depart  with  Noco, 
although  the  latter  well  knew  that  thenceforth 
every  movement  which  she  and  her  gray-garbed 
companion  made  would  be  noted  by  the  dark 
eyes  of  fanatical  spies. 

The  room  in  which  the  refugees — for  such  the 
antagonism  of  the  dominant  sun-priests  had  made 
them — had  found  shelter  for  the  night  was  a 
picturesque  apartment,  fifteen  feet  in  length  and 
breadth,  and  lighted  by  flickering  gleams  from 
124 


THE    LIVERY    OF    SATAN 

the  embers  of  a  fire  of  walnut-wood.  Upon  a 
bed  of  plaited  reeds,  resting  upon  a  wooden 
frame  two  feet  high,  lay  Katonah,  grief-stricken, 
motionless,  making  no  sound.  Heart-broken  at 
her  brother's  awful  fate,  the  Indian  maiden 
nursed  her  sorrow  in  loneliness  and  silence.  In 
vain  had  the  good  friar  attempted  to  console  her 
for  her  irreparable  loss  by  painting,  in  eloquent 
words,  the  rewards  awaiting  a  martyr  who  died 
for  love  of  Mother  Church.  Katonah  was  too 
recent  a  convert  to  the  Franciscan's  faith  to 
realize  and  rejoice  in  the  unseen  glories  of  her 
brother's  heroic  self-sacrifice.  She  had  listened  to 
Membre's  soothing  words  with  a  grateful  smile 
upon  her  strong,  symmetrical  face,  but  evident 
relief  had  come  to  her  when  the  gray-frocked  en 
thusiast  had  retired  from  her  bedside  to  seat  him 
self  beside  de  Sancerre  in  the  centre  of  the  room. 
"  Pardieu  !"  muttered  the  Frenchman,  casting 
a  searching  glance  at  the  corner  in  which  ISToco 
and  Cabanacte  were  engaged  in  earnest,  low- 
voiced  converse,  "  these  people  show  outward 
signs  of  enlightenment,  but  they  have  a  most 
brutal  way  of  putting  a  man  to  death.  The 
savage  delight  which  those  white -robed  devils 
seemed  to  take  in  basting  poor  Chatemuc  made 
my  sword-point  itch.  'Twas  well  for  me  Saint 
Maturin  was  kind.  He  checked  my  folly  just  in 
time  !  But  listen,  father  !  The  martyrdom  of 
125 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

Chatemuc  must  now  suffice.  Those  imps  of  hell 
will  have  your  life,  anon,  unless  you  foil  their 
craft  by  craft.  I  think  I  hear  their  stealth}'-  foot 
steps  menacing  these  sun-cooked  walls  and  mak 
ing  challenge  of  our  god,  the  moon." 

The  Franciscan  put  up  his  hand  to  enforce  si 
lence  that  he  might  listen  to  the  furtive  footfalls 
outside  the  hut.  At  that  moment  Noco  and  her 
grandson  stole  toward  the  centre  of  the  room. 
The  stalwart  sun- worshipper,  who  now  looked 
upon  de  Sancerre  as  a  supernatural  being  worthy 
of  the  most  reverential  treatment,  towered  aloft 
in  the  narrow  chamber  like  a  keen-eyed,  sun-burnt 
ogre  who  had  lured  a  number  of  unlucky  dwarfs 
to  his  den  to  have  his  grim  way  with  them. 
Stretching  his  long  body  at  full  length  before  the 
sputtering  fire,  Cabanacte  turned  his  admiring 
gaze  toward  the  troubled  face  of  his  fleet-footed 
conqueror  and  waited  forNocotoput  into  words 
the  thoughts  which  fretted  him. 

"  You — all  of  you — must  leave  here  to-night, 
sefior,"  said  the  old  woman  in  a  guttural  whisper. 
"  The  Brother  of  the  Sun  is  your  friend,  but  the 
priests  of  the  temple  look  with  suspicion  upon 
you  and  the  gray  chanter.  They  would  not  dare 
to  defy  openly  the  King,  but  they  have  tracked 
you  to  this  hiding-place  and  will  work  you  mis 
chief  if  they  may." 

u  But,  sefiora,  I  fear  them  not !"  exclaimed  de 

126 


THE    LIVERY    OF    SATAN 

Sancerre,  drawing  his  rapier  and  allowing  the 
fire-flashes  to  gleam  along  the  steel.  "Saving 
the  father's  presence  here,  one  sword  against  a 
priesthood  is  enough.  My  tongue's  as  boastful 
as  a  Gascon's,  is  it  not  ?  But  list  to  this,  senora ! 
I  leave  here  only  when  I've  had  some  speech 
with  Coyocop,  the  spirit  of  the  sun.  When  that 
may  be  I  do  not  know,  but  Louis  de  Sancerre,  a 
moonbeam's  eldest  son,  has  sworn  an  oath — and 
so,  senora,  my  welcome  I  must  stretch." 

Cabanacte,  who  had  learned  a  little  distorted 
Spanish  from  his  loquacious  grandparent,  had 
caught  the  drift  of  the  Frenchman's  speech.  Put 
ting  forth  a  large,  brown  hand,  shapely  in  its 
massiveness,  he  touched  the  buckles  upon  de  San- 
cerre's  shoes  and  exclaimed,  in  what  sounded 
like  a  parody  upon  Noco's  rendition  of  an  alien 
tongue : 

"  Good  !  Good !  The  son  of  moonbeams  has  a 
lofty  soul !  And  Cabanacte  is  his  body-guard  ! 
No  harm  shall  come  to  you,  despite  the  oath  our 
priests  have  sworn !" 

The  smile  upon  de  Sancerre's  ever-changing 
face  was  the  visible  sign  of  varied  emotions. 
Pleased  at  the  cordial  proffer  of  Cabanacte's 
friendship,  the  Frenchman  was  astonished  to  dis 
cover  that  the  giant  had  picked  up  a  Spanish 
vocabulary  which,  in  spite  of  his  peculiar  pro 
nunciation,  was  not  wholly  useless.  That  the 

127 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

survival  of  a  Spanish  patois  among  these  sun- 
worshippers  suggested  a  pathetic  page  of  un 
written  history  de  Sancerre  realized,  but  his 
mind  at  that  moment  was  too  disturbed  to  linger 
long  over  an  ethnological  and  linguistic  prob 
lem.  Turning  to  face  the  Franciscan  friar,  he 
said : 

"  Pere  Membre,  these  pagan  priests  seek  ven 
geance  upon  you.  They  have  no  reason  yet  for 
hating  me,  a  splinter  from  a  moonbeam  who 
makes  no  open  war  against  their  creed.  But, 
for  the  cause  of  Mother  Church,  we  must  lure 
them  from  their  grim  idolatry.  Let  Cabanacte 
use  his  strength  and  wits  to  find  a  pathway  lead 
ing  to  our  camp  by  which  you  may  return.  Here 
I  shall  stay  until  our  leader,  coming  North  again, 
shall  send  me  word  to  quit  this  place,  leaving 
behind  me  a  friendly  race,  soil  ready  for  the 
seeds  of  living  truth." 

It  was  not  excessive  self-laudation  which  had 
led  de  Sancerre  to  believe  that  he  possessed  the 
qualifications  essential  to  success  in  diplomacy. 
Whenever  he  had  set  out  to  effect  a  purpose 
seemingly  worthy  of  studied  effort,  he  had  found 
no  difficulty  in  checking  the  satirical  tendencies 
of  his  flippant  tongue.  At  this  moment  he  was 
gazing  at  the  Franciscan's  disturbed  countenance 
with  eyes  which  seemed  to  gleam  with  the  fer 
vor  of  his  zeal  for  Mother  Church.  Wishing  to 

128 


THE    LIVERY    OF    SATAN 

convince  Pere  Membre  that  the  ultimate  conver 
sion  of  these  pagans  from  their  worship  of  hell- 
fire  to  the  true  faith  depended  upon  their  pos 
session  of  a  hostage  who '  should  study  their 
manners  and  customs  and  learn  the  shortest  path 
by  which  their  unregenerated  souls  might  be 
reached,  de  Sancerre  explained  his  plan  of  ac 
tion  to  the  friar  with  an  unctuous  fervor  which 
convinced  the  latter  that  he  had  underestimated 
the  errant  courtier's  enthusiasm  as  a  proselyter. 

"But  the  Mohican  maiden,  monsieur?  I  owe 
it  to  Chatemuc,  the  martyr,  now  with  the  saints 
in  Paradise,  to  place  her  in  the  care  of  de  la 
Salle.  His  sword,  my  crucifix,  must  guard  Ka- 
tonah  for  her  brother's  sake." 

The  walnut  embers  in  the  clumsy  fireplace  had 
grown  black  and  cold.  For  some  time  past  no 
sound  had  reached  the  ears  of  the  schemers  from 
the  menacing  environment  outside  the  hut.  The 
moon  had  touched  its  midnight  goal,  and  sought, 
in  passing,  to  probe  the  secrets  of  old  loco's 
home. 

"Bonnement!"  exclaimed  de  Sancerre.  "Go 
to  her  at  once,  good  father,  and  tell  her  that  'tis 
best  she  should  return  with  you  to-night.  I'll 
join  you  presently.  Meanwhile,  I  must  have 
further  speech  with  Noco  and  her  grandson." 

Presently  the  moonbeams,  which  had  stolen 
into  the  hut  through  chinks  between  the  timbers 
i  129 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

and  the  hardened  mud,  threw  a  dim  light  upon 
a  most  impressive  tableau.  The  white  face  of 
the  Frenchman  was  bent  close  to  the  dusky  vis 
age  of  the  athletic  sun-worshipper,  while  Noco, 
squatting  upon  the  ground,  bent  toward  them  her 
wrinkled,  grinning  countenance,  an  effigy  of 
"  Gossip,"  wrought  in  bronze.  Bending  over  the 
reed -made  couch  upon  which  Katonah,  dumb 
with  misery,  lay  listening,  stood  the  gray  friar, 
whispering  to  the  phlegmatic  and  seemingly 
obedient  maiden  the  Frenchman's  late  behest. 

Before  the  moonbeams  could  take  their  tale 
abroad,  the  scene  had  changed.  From  a  corner 
of  the  hut  jNoco  had  brought  to  the  Franciscan 
and  his  charge  flowing  garments  of  white  mul 
berry-bark,  in  which  Katonah  and  the  friar  re 
luctantly  enrobed  themselves.  With  a  harmless 
dye,  old  Noco,  whose  time-tested  frame  seemed 
to  defy  fatigue,  deftly  changed  the  protesting 
Membre's  white  complexion  to  light  mahogany. 

"  Mother  of  Mary  !  I  fear  me  this  is  sacrilege," 
muttered  the  friar,  nervously  seeking  his  breviary 
beneath  the  white  uniform  of  a  lost  sun-worship 
per.  "  Satis,  superque!  You'll  make  my  face, 
old  woman,  as  black  as  Satan's  heart!  The 
saints  forgive  me !  Were  not  my  life  of  value  to 
the  Church,  I'd  gladly  die  before  I'd  don  this 
ghostly  livery  of  sin." 

Meanwhile  de  Sancerre  had  been  straining  his 
130 


THE    LIVERY    OF    SATAN 

weary  eyes  in  the  effort  to  scratch  a  message  to 
de  la  Salle  with  his  daggers-point  upon  a  slip  of 
white  bark. 

"  The  Spanish  have  tampered  with  a  mighty 
nation,"  he  wrote.  "  I  remain  to  learn  the  truth  ; 
to  find  a  way  to  win  them  to  our  king.  Camp 
where  you  are  when  you  return.  I'll  learn  of 
your  approach,  rejoin  you  then,  and  bring  you 
news  most  worthy  your  concern.  Au  revoir, 
mon  capitaine!  For  France,  with  sword  and 
crucifix !" 

As  he  scrawled  his  signature  beneath  these 
words,  Katonah  glided  silently  to  his  side,  a 
maiden  whose  grace  was  not  destroyed  by  her 
unwonted  garb,  a  costume  enhancing  the  dark 
beauty  of  her  proud,  melancholy  face.  Her 
light  hand  rested  gently  upon  his  arm  for  a 
moment. 

"The  good  father  tells  me  that  you  would  have 
me  go,"  she  murmured  in  a  voice  of  mingled  res 
ignation  and  regret.  De  Sancerre,  handing  her 
the  slip  of  mulberry-bark  upon  which  he  had 
scratched  a  message  to  his  leader,  smiled  up  into 
the  yearning  face  of  the  lonely  girl. 

"  Give  this  to  our  captain,  Sieur  de  la  Salle," 
he  said,  sharply.  "  Fail  not,  Katonah !  My  life, 
I  think,  depends  upon  this  scrawl." 

A  smile  flashed  across  the  maiden's  mournful 
face  as  she  pressed  the  bark  to  her  bosom,  heav- 
131 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

ing  with  a  conflict  of  emotions  to  which  no  words 
of  hers  could  give  relief. 

"  His  hand  shall  hold  it  ere  the  sun  is  up,"  she 
said,  simply.  "  Farewell !" 

De  Sancerre,  looking  up  into  the  girl's  eyes 
felt,  with  amazement,  the  tears  creeping  into  his. 
He  bent  his  head  and  imprinted  a  kiss  upon  her 
slender,  trembling  hand,  which  felt  like  ice  be 
neath  his  lips. 

"  Courage,  ma  petite  /"  he  cried,  with  forced 
gayety.  "  You  will  return  anon !  And  then, 
the  river  once  again,  and  home — and  friends — 
and—" 

His  voice  broke,  and  when  he  had  regained 
his  self-control  he  saw  that  Katonah  had  joined 
Cabanacte  and  the  friar  at  the  entrance  to  the 
hut. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

IN  WHICH  A  SPIRIT  SAVES  DE  SANCERRE  FROM  DEATH 

THERE  reigned  in  JSToco's  hut  intense  silence. 
Stretched  upon  a  bench  in  the  centre  of  the  room 
lay  de  Sancerre,  his  head  bent  forward  and  his 
eyes  agleam,  while  he  listened  apprehensively  to 
the  murmurs  of  the  night  outside.  On  the 
ground  at  his  feet  squatted  his  aged  hostess, 
quick  to  interpret  every  sound  which  echoed 
from  the  sleeping  town.  Her  eyes  still  burned 
with  the  light  of  her  marvellous  vitality,  but  her 
present  posture  indicated  that  her  old  bones  had 
grown  weary  of  the  friction  begotten  by  a  long 
and  exacting  day. 

"  All  is  well,  sefiora  ?  You  hear  no  threaten 
ing  sound  ?"  De  Sancerre's  voice  bore  witness  to 
the  excitement  under  which  he  labored  at  that 
crucial  moment. 

"  A  dog  barks,  near  at  hand  ;  an  owl  hoots,  far 
away.  Our  friends  are  safe  beyond  the  town — 
and  all  is  well !" 

"Bun!  Dona  Noco,  I  trust  the  keenness  of 
your  ears.  I  feared  the  searching  gaze  of  wake- 
133 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

ful  spies.  'Tis  possible  your  priests  have  gone  to- 
sleep." 

The  old  hag  grinned.  "  Make  no  mistake," 
she  exclaimed,  in  her  broken  Spanish.  "  Their 
eyes  have  seen  your  people,  but,  fearing  Caba- 
nacte's  wrath,  they  dared  not  search  beneath  the 
white  robes  at  his  side.  Within  the  temple  chat 
tering  priests  will  ask  each  other  whom  my 
grandson  guides.  They'll  ask  in  vain !  But, 
hark !  The  night's  as  quiet  as  a  sleeping  babe." 

"Then,  when  I'm  in  the  mood,  I'll  vow  a  can 
dle  to  St.  Raphael,"  cried  de  Sancerre,  lightly. 
"  He  travelled  safe  by  wearing  a  disguise !  But 
tell  me,  Dona  Noco,  is  the  coast  now  clear  ?  I've 
set  my  heart  upon  a  look  at  Coyocop's  abode.  I 
cannot  sleep  until  I  know  where  this  fair  spirit 
of  the  sun  is  lodged." 

The  beldame's  black  eyes  flashed  with  excite 
ment.  Her  overwrought  frame  seemed  to  renew 
its  vigor  as  she  arose  to  her  feet  and  hurried  tow 
ard  the  low-cut  entrance  to  the  hut.  An  instant 
later,  de  Sancerre  found  himself  the  solitary  oc 
cupant  of  a  dreary  and  disordered  room.  He 
peered  through  the  shadows  toward  the  exit 
through  which  Noco  had  passed  and,  for  a  mo 
ment,  doubt  of  her  good  faith  entered  his  mind. 
He  fully  comprehended  the  perils  of  his  environ 
ment,  and  realized  that  upon  the  loyalty  of  the 
old  hag  who  had  just  left  his  side  depended  his 
134 


A    SPIRIT    SAVES    DE   SANCERRE 

escape  from  the  clangers  which  beset  him.  While 
it  might  be  that  he,  an  envoy  from  the  moon, 
helped  to  fulfil  an  ancient  prophecy  in  which 
these  fickle  sun-worshippers  put  faith,  the  fact 
remained  that  their  chief,  the  Great  Sun,  had 
failed  to  give  him  countenance  before  the  temple 
priests.  It  had  become  painfully  apparent  to  de 
Sancerre  that  the  real  centre  of  authority  in  this 
land  of  superstitions  was  to  be  looked  for  near 
the  sacred  fire  and  not  at  the  King's  throne. 
The  fact  that  the  Brother  of  the  Sun  had  found 
it  inexpedient  to  lodge  the  Frenchman  in  the 
royal  residence  bore  testimony  to  the  strong  ties 
which  bound  the  palace  to  the  temple,  to  the 
close  relationship  of  church  and  state.  To  a  man 
who  had  spent  years  at  Versailles,  the  influence 
exerted  by  a  priesthood  upon  a  king  was  not  a 
marvel. 

"Mafoi!"  muttered  de  Sancerre  to  himself, 
as  he  rested  his  aching  head  upon  his  hand  and 
watched  expectantly  the  hole  in  the  wall  through 
which  Noco  had  departed.  "  The  old  finesse 
which  served  me  well  at  courts  has  worn  itself  to 
naught.  In  France  or  in  this  wilderness  my 
fate's  the  same.  I  jump  to  favor — then  the  King 
grows  cold  and  potent  priests  usurp  the  place  I 
held.  But,  even  so,  the  tale  is  not  all  told.  I'm 
here  to  solve  a  puzzle,  not  to  fawn  upon  a  prince 
nor  tempt  the  vengeance  of  a  temple's  brood. 
135 


AVI  Til    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

So  be  that  loco's  true,  I  yet  may  work  my  will 
upon  a  stubborn  mystery." 

At  that  moment  a  hideous  grin,  weird  off 
spring  of  ivory  and  bronze,  rewarded  de  San- 
cerre's  straining  gaze. 

"  Follow  me,  senor,"  whispered  Noco  through 
the  hole  which  served  as  a  door  to  the  hut. 
"  There's  no  one  in  the  city  now  awake  save  nod 
ding  priests  who  feed  the  fire  with  logs.  I'll 
show  you  in  the  moonlight  where  Coyocop's  at 
rest." 

In  the  white  light  of  a  cloudless  night  the  City 
of  the  Sun  lay  disguised  in  a  beauty  which  the 
bright  glare  of  its  own  deity  destroyed  by  day. 
Grouped  around  the  temple,  the  houses  of  the 
sun-worshippers,  rising  gracefully  from  artificial 
mounds,  were  softened  in  their  outlines  by  the 
moonbeams  until  they  formed  a  city  upon  which 
de  Sancerre,  accustomed,  as  he  was,  to  the  archi 
tectural  splendors  of  the  old  world,  gazed  with 
surprise  and  pleasure.  Choosing  the  shadows 
cast  by  the  sun-baked  walls  for  her  pathway, 
ISToco  led  the  stranger  past  the  most  pretentious 
building  in  the  town,  the  sacred  temple  in  which 
a  mystic  fire  was  ever  kept  alive.  Like  an 
earthen  oven,  one  hundred  feet  in  circumference, 
the  stronghold  of  a  cruel  priesthood  impressed 
the  Frenchman  with  its  grim  significance.  As 
he  and  his  withered  guide  crept  noiselessly  past 
136 


A    SPIRIT    SAVES    DE   SANCERRE 

the  silent,  shadow-haunted  fane,  de  Sancerre  suc 
cumbed  to  a  shudder  which  he  could  not  read 
ily  control.  Upon  a  palisade  above  his  head, 
surrounding  the  temple  upon  all  sides,  skulls 
gleamed  in  the  moonlight,  bearing  sombre  wit 
ness  to  the  horrors  of  the  cult  by  which  a  noble 
race  was  brutalized. 

"Dios!"  he  muttered  in  the  old  hag's  ear,  as  he 
clasped  her  by  the  arm.  "  The  shambles  of  your 
creed  offend  my  sight !  If  you  love  me,  senora, 
we'll  leave  this  place  behind  !" 

They  had  not  far  to  go.  Beyond  the  temple 
and  facing  the  east  stood  the  spacious  cabin  in 
which  the  Brother  of  the  Sun  maintained  his 
royal  state.  It  was  silent  and  deserted  as  they 
stole  by  it,  to  take  their  stand  in  the  shadow  cast 
by  a  house  proud  of  its  nearness  to  the  home  of 
kings.  White  and  silent,  the  night  recalled  to 
de  Sancerre's  mind  an  evening  in  the  outskirts  of 
Versailles  when,  having  eluded  the  watchful  eyes 
of  his  Spanish  rival,  he  had  tempted  Dona  Julia 
de  Aquilar  to  a  stroll  beneath  the  moon.  His 
heart  grew  sick  with  the  sweetness  of  his  re  very. 
He  could  see  again  the  dark,  liquid  ej^es,  the  raven 
hair,  the  pale,  perfect  face  of  a  woman  whose 
splendid  beauty  mocked  him  now  as  he  stood 
there  a  waif,  blown  by  the  cruel  winds  of  mis 
fortune  to  a  land  "where  grinning  skulls  stared 
down  at  him  at  night,  as  if  they'd  heard  the 
137 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

story  of  his  lost  love  and  rejoiced  at  his  cruel 
plight. 

"  Come  !  Come,  senora,"  he  murmured,  fret 
fully,  turning  to  retrace  his  steps,  and  seemingly 
forgetful  of  the  object  of  his  perilous  pilgrimage. 
"  Come !  Let  us  go  back !" 

"  Hush,  senor  !  Listen  !"  whispered  the  old 
crone,  hoarsety,  pulling  him  closer  toward  the 
house  in  the  shadow  of  which  they  lingered. 
"  Listen  !  'Tis  Coyocop  !" 

De  Sancerre  leaned  against  the  wall  of  the 
hut,  made  dizzy  for  a  moment  by  the  wild 
beating  of  his  heart.  In  perfect  harmony  with 
the  melancholy  beauty  of  the  night  arose  a  sad, 
soft,  sweet-toned  voice,  which  came  to  him  at 
that  moment  like  a  caress  bestowed  upon  him  in 
a  dream  and  made  real  by  a  miracle.  De  San 
cerre  clutched  old  Noco's  arm  with  a  grasp  which 
made  her  wince.  Gazing  at  the  moon-kissed 
scene  before  him  with  eyes  which  saw  only  a 
picture  of  the  past  he  listened,  white-lipped, 
breathless,  trembling,  to  an  old  Spanish  song, 
into  which  Juan  Fernandez  Heredia,  more  than 
a  century  before  this  night,  had  breathed  the 
passion  and  the  melancholy  of  a  romantic  race. 

"To  part,  to  lose  thee,  was  so  hard, 

So  sad  that  all  besides  is  nought  ; 
The  pain  of  death  itself,  compared 
To  this,  is  hardly  worth  a  thought." 
138 


A    SPIRIT    SAVES    DE   SANCERRE 

A  sob  set  to  music,  despair  turned  into  song,  a 
voice  telling  of  unshed  tears  echoed  through  the 
night  and  gave  waj7  to  silence  for  a  time. 

"  Nom  de  Dieu!  Do  I  dream,  or  am  I  going 
mad?"  muttered  de  Sancerre  to  himself,  peer 
ing  down  at  his  silent  companion  as  if  seeking  an 
answer  to  the  questions  that  beset  him.  Sud 
denly  the  voice,  whose  tones  spoke  to  his  heart 
in  the  only  language  known  to  all  the  world, 
again  made  music  out  of  misery : 

"There  is  a  wound  that  never  heals — 

Tis  folly  e'en  to  dream  of  healing  ; 
Inquire  not  what  a  spirit  feels 
That  aye  has  lost  the  sense  of  feeling. 

"  My  heart  is  callous  now,  and  bared 

To  every  pang  with  sorrow  fraught; 
The  pain  of  death  itself,  compared 
To  this,  is  hardly  worth  a  thought." 

The  song  gave  way  to  silence,  and,  drawing  him 
self  erect,  like  a  man  who  awakens  from  a  trance, 
de  Sancerre  turned  to  Noco: 

'"Tis  the  spirit  of  the  sun,"  whispered  the  old 
crone.  "  'Tis  Coyocop.  She  sings  at  night  the 
songs  we  cannot  understand." 

"  Listen,   senora,"   muttered   the   Frenchman, 

striving  to  check  the  impetuosity  which  tempted 

him  to  defy  the  perils  surrounding  him  and  to 

enter  the  hut  without  more  ado.    "  'Tis  the  spirit 

139 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

of  the  sun — of  life  and  hope  and  love !  I  wor 
ship  her,  senora.  By  what  astounding  chance — 
But  let  that  pass !  Dona  Noco,  you  must  speak 
to  Coyocop  at  once.  Tell  her — " 

De  Sancerre's  words  died  upon  his  lips,  for  the 
wiry  old  hag  had  dragged  him  by  the  arm  around 
a  corner  of  the  cabin  before  he  could  end  his 
sentence. 

u  Silence,"  she  murmured.  "A  priest  of  the 
temple  has  come  this  way  to  listen  to  the  spirit's 
voice.  'Tis  well  for  us  that  my  old  eyes  are 
quick." 

Not  heeding  the  angry  protests  of  the  French 
man,  whose  longing  to  send  a  word  of  greeting 
to  a  singer  whose  voice  seemed  to  have  reached 
him  from  a  land  far  over-sea  was  driving  him  to 
desperate  deeds,  Noco  led  de  Sancerre  rapidly, 
by  a  circuitous  path  they  had  not  trod  before, 
toward  the  quarter  of  the  sleeping  to\vn  in  which 
her  hut  awaited  them.  Beneath  the  ghastly  sen 
tinels  grinning  down  at  them  from  the  temple's 
palisades  they  stole  for  a  space,  and  then  turned 
to  pick  their  way  toward  Noco's  home  behind 
cabins  which  cast  long  shadows  toward  the  east. 

Stepping  from  the  gloom  into  the  moonlight, 
Noco,  holding  the  Frenchman  like  a  captive  by 
the  arm,  was  about  to  enter  her  hut  with  her  re 
bellious  guest  when  there  arose  around  them,  as 
if  the  earth  had  suddenly  given  birth  to  a  night- 
140 


A    SPIRIT    SAVES    DE  SANCERRE 

prowling  priesthood,  the  white-robed  figures  of  a 
score  of  silent  men. 

"  What  have  we  here  ?"  exclaimed  de  Sancerre, 
breaking  away  from  Noco's  clutch,  and  draw 
ing  his  rapier  from  its  sheath.  "  My  sword  is 
fond  of  moonlight !  Ask  these  ghostly  cowards, 
senora,  how  they  dare  to  dog  the  footsteps  of 
the  Brother  of  the  Moon.  ,  Just  say  to  them 
that  in  this  blood-stained  blade  there's  magic, 
made  of  silver-dust,  to  kill  a  thousand  men." 

"  Be  silent,  senor,"  implored  Noco.  "  I'll  save 
you,  if  I  can."  Then,  facing  the  chief  priest, 
who  towered  above  them  a  few  paces  in  front  of 
his  silent  and  motionless  brethren,  she  exclaimed, 
in  the  tongue  of  the  sun-worshippers : 

"  What  would  you  with  this  scion  of  the  moon  ? 
He  worships  Coyocop." 

"  How  know  we  that  ?"  asked  the  chief  priest, 
sternly,  a  bronze  giant  questioning  a  bronze 
dwarf  surrounded  by  sentinels  of  bronze.  In 
the  very  centre  of  the  dusky,  white  -  garbed 
group  stood  the  pale,  desperate  Frenchman,  his 
rapier  pointed  at  an  angle  toward  the  ground, 
while  his  keen  eyes,  bold  and  unflinching,  trav 
elled  defiantly  from  face  to  face  of  the  scowling 
priests. 

"  What  says  the  Inquisition  ?     Will  they  dare 
the  terrors  of  my  hungry  blade,  seTIora?"  cried 
de  Sancerre,  mockingly. 
141 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

"  'Tis  dread  of  the  gray  chanter  that  inspires 
them,"  muttered  Noco.  Then  she  turned  to  the 
Frenchman.  "I've  told  them  that  you  worship 
Coyocop.  They  have  no  proof  of  it." 

"  Pardieu  !"  exclaimed  the  Frenchman,  elevat 
ing  his  rapier.  u  The  blood  of  a  sulky  Spaniard 
on  this  blade  is  proof  enough.  But,  I  have  it ! 
Say  to  his  holiness,  the  chief  priest,  that  I  will 
scratch  a  message  to  the  spirit  of  the  sun  upon  a 
piece  of  bark.  Bid  him,  in  person,  take  it  straight 
to  Coyocop.  If  he  obeys  not  what  she  says  to 
him,  the  City  of  the  Sun  is  doomed." 

Quickly  translating  de  Sancerre's  defiant  words 
into  her  native  tongue,  Noco,  at  a  gesture  from 
the  chief  priest,  entered  her  hut.  She  was  absent 
but  a  moment  and,  upon  her  return,  handed  a 
piece  of  virgin  mulberry  -  wood  to  de  Sancerre. 
Drawing  his  dagger  from  its  sheath,  the  French 
man  scrawled  these  words  upon  the  white  bark : 

"Louis  de  Sancerre,  of  Languedoc,  sends  greeting  to  Coy 
ocop.  Warn  the  bearer  that  my  person  must  be  sacred  in  the 
City  of  the  Sun.  To-morrow  I  will  speak  to  you  the  words  I 
cannot  write." 

Noco,  without  more  ado,  handed  the  note  to 
the  guardian  of  the  sacred  lire,  who  received 
it  with  evident  reluctance.  Ignorant  of  the  art 
of  writing,  he  looked  upon  the  gleaming  bark  as 
a  bit  of  moon-magic  which  might,  at  any  moment, 
142 


A    SPIRIT    SAVES    DE   SANCERRE 

cast  upon  him  an  evil  spell.  But,  for  the  sake  of 
his  prestige  with  his  order,  he  dared  not  give  way 
to  the  dread  which  filled  his  superstitious  soul. 
Stalking  away,  with  Noco  hurrying  on  behind 
him,  he  strode  through  the  moonlight  toward 
the  house  in  which  the  spirit  of  the  sun  was 
lodged. 

The  minutes  which  preceded  his  return  were 
like  weary  hours  to  the  distraught  Frenchman, 
surrounded,  as  he  was,  by  pitiless  faces  from 
which  black,  piercing  eyes  seemed  to  singe  his 
velvets  with  their  spiteful  gleams.  A  tattered 
courtier,  with  drawn  sword,  he  stood  there  mo 
tionless,  silent,  awaiting  with  foreboding  the 
return  of  his  most  influential  foe.  If  fancy,  or 
a  fever  begotten  of  a  long  and  exciting  day,  had 
played  him  a  trick ;  if  the  song  of  Coyocop  had 
been  voiced  by  Julia  de  Aquilar  only  in  his 
imagination,  he  knew  that  he  was  doomed. 
Presently  he  drew  from  his  bosom  the  piece  of 
bark  upon  which  was  written  the  Spanish  maid 
en's  name.  The  sight  revived  his  drooping 
courage.  Whatever  might  be  the  explanation 
of  the  presence  of  Julia  de  Aquilar  in  this  grim 
outland,  his  reason  told  him  that  his  eyes  and 
ears  had  not  deceived  him. 

At  that  moment  the  chief  priest,  breaking 
through  the  circle  of  his  subordinates,  strode 
quickly  toward  de  Sancerre.  Falling  upon  his 
143 


WITH    SWORD   AND    CRUCIFIX 

knees,  be  raised  his  long  arms  toward  the  sky 
and  uttered  a  harsh  shout  which  was  repeated 
by  the  onlooking  priests. 

"  You  are  saved !"  whispered  the  panting  Noco, 
an  instant  later,  to  the  Frenchman.  "  Coj7ocop 
has  rescued  you  from  death !" 

Having  paid  homage  to  the  misunderstood 
scion  of  the  moon,  the  guardian  of  the  sacred 
fire  handed  to  de  Sancerre  the  bark,  within 
which  the  former  had  found  no  evil  spell. 
Scrawled  beneath  the  Frenchman's  words  were 
these : 

"The  Holy  Mother  has  heard  my  prayers.  All  glory  be 
to  her  for  this  strange  miracle.  I  await  your  coming  with  a 
grateful  heart.  No  harm  can  fall  upon  you,  for  I  have 
warned  the  temple  priest.  May  the  saints  guard  you  through 
the  night. 

"  JULIA  DE  AQUILAR." 

Turning  to  Noco,  who  had  regained  her  breath, 
de  Sancerre  said : 

"  Say  to  this  servant  of  the  sun  that  I  grant 
him  pardon  for  his  foolish  threats.  But  warn 
him  to  take  heed  of  how  he  walks.  Unless  he 
payeth  abject  homage  to  my  power,  it  may  go 
hard  with  him." 

Waving  his  rapier  'til  it  flashed  before  the  eyes 

of  the  overawed  priest  like  a  magic  wand  made 

of  silvery  moonbeams,  de  Sancerre  strode  with 

studied  dignity  toward  Noco's  hut,  and  disap- 

144 


A    SPIRIT    SAVES    DE   SANCERRE 

peared  from  sight.  The  sun-priests,  headed  by 
their  subdued  chief,  filed  solemnly  toward  their 
blood-stained  temple,  and  presently  the  moon, 
drooping  toward  the  west,  gazed  down  upon  a 
city  apparently  abandoned  by  all  men. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
IN  WHICH  DE  SANCERRE  BREAKS  HIS  FAST  AND  SMILES 

WORN  out  with  the  exhausting  experiences  of 
long  hours,  unprecedented,  even  in  his  varied  ca 
reer,  for  the  many  contrasted  emotions  with 
which  they  had  assailed  him,  de  Sancerre  had 
thrown  himself,  fully  dressed,  upon  a  bed  of 
plaited  reeds  in  Noco's  hut,  and,  despite  his  in 
clination  to  muse  upon  the  joy  and  wonder  of 
the  day's  concluding  episode,  had  fallen  into  a 
dreamless,  restful  sleep,  which  still  wrapped  him 
in  its  benign  embrace  long  after  the  sun-god  had 
blinked  at  the  matutinal  shouts  with  which  the 
shining  orb  was  greeted  by  its  worshippers  at 
dawn.  The  day  was  nearly  ten  hours  of  age 
before  the  Frenchman,  stretching  his  arms  and 
legs  to  their  full  length,  awoke  suddenly,  and, 
with  a  smile  upon  his  lips  and  a  gleam  of  hap 
piness  in  his  eyes,  recalled  instantly  the  marvel 
which  had  made  his  present  environment,  with 
all  its  perils,  a  delight  to  his  refreshed  and  ar 
dent  soul.  Suddenly  he  discovered  that  while 
he  slept  his  outer  garments  had  been  removed. 
146 


DE   SANCERRE    BREAKS    HIS    FAST 

Turning  on  his  side  he  raised  his  head,  rested  it 
upon  his  hand,  and  glanced  toward  the  centre  of 
the  room,  which  still  bore  marks  of  the  disorder 
begotten  by  the  hasty  flight  of  the  disguised 
Franciscan  and  his  charge. 

Squatting  upon  the  ground  beside  a  bench, 
upon  which  rested  de  Sancerre's  nether  gar 
ments,  sat  old  Noco,  busily  plying  her  fish-bone 
needle,  while  she  repaired  the  many  rents  in  his 
doublet  and  crooned  a  monotonous  chant  in  a 
harsh,  guttural  voice.  At  the  further  end  of  the 
hut  a  crackling  fire  sent  forth  an  odor  which  in 
creased  the  satisfaction  of  the  Frenchman  with 
his  surroundings.  With  corn-meal  and  fish,  de 
Sancerre's  hostess  had  prepared  a  repast  which 
the  most  fastidious  palate  at  Versailles  would 
have  found  seductive.  Upon  a  small  bench  at 
JSToco's  right  hand  stood  a  bowl  of  reddish  crock 
ery,  in  which  wild  strawberries  awaited  the 
pleasure  of  her  guest. 

"  You  will  pardon  me,  senora,"  cried  de  San- 
cerre,  gayly,  "  if  I  remark  that  my  present  plight 
is  somewhat  embarrassing.  I  shall  be  late  at 
table  unless  my  overworked  wardrobe  is  restored 
to  me  at  once." 

"  Mas  vale  tarde  que  nunca  /"  retorted  the  old 
hag,  glancing  inquiringly  at  the  fire,  and  then 
resuming  her  patchwork.  "  You  slept  well, 
senor  ?" 

147 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

"Like  a  log,"  answered  de  Sancerre — "a  log 
saved  from  the  sacred  fire.  And  now,  there  is 
no  time  to  lose!  We  have  before  us,  Dona 
Noco,  a  busy  day." 

"  Nay,"  returned  his  hostess,  approaching  his 
bedside  with  his  rejuvenated  garments  upon  her 
withered  arm.  "  'Tis  well  to  wait  a  while.  When 
Cabanacte  has  returned,  we'll  hold  a  council  and 
perfect  a  plan.  It  is  not  fitting  that  the  Broth 
er  of  the  Moon  should  show  himself  at  once. 
My  people  worship  best  the  gods  they  do  not 
see." 

Again  de  Sancerre  caught  in  Noco's  eyes  a 
mocking  gleam  which  once  before  had  placed 
him  in  close  sympathy  with  her.  That  this  old 
hag,  whose  mind  was  quick  and  clear,  had,  in 
her  heart  of  hearts,  discarded  many  of  the  an 
cient  superstitions  to  which  she  outwardly  con 
formed  the  Frenchman  more  than  half  suspected. 
But  he  spoke  no  further  word  to  her  until  he 
had  made  a  hasty  toilet,  and,  refreshed  by  an 
application  of  cool  water  to  his  face  and  hands, 
had  seated  himself  upon  a  bench  to  rejoice  his  in 
ner  man  with  strawberries,  corn-cake,  and  skil 
fully-cooked  fish.  The  variety  of  Noco's  ac 
complishments  filled  de  Sancerre  with  mingled 
admiration  and  astonishment.  Speaking  two 
languages,  expert  with  her  needle,  an  admirable 
cook,  quick-witted,  fertile  in  resource,  the  old 
148 


DE  SANCERRE  BREAKS  HIS  FAST 

woman  impressed  the  Frenchman  that  morning 
as  a  being  well  entitled  to  his  respect  and  grati 
tude.  But  his  mind  dwelt  no  long  time  upon 
the  praiseworthy  versatility  of  his  aged  hostess. 
Impatient  and  impetuous  by  nature,  he  chafed 
sorely  at  inaction. 

"  Cabanacte !"  he  exclaimed,  after  he  had  sat 
isfied  his  appetite,  observing  that  Noco  had  dis 
posed  of  the  most  exacting  of  her  many  tasks. 
"When  think  you,  senora,  your  grandson  will 
return  ?" 

"  When  'tis  best  for  you,  seiior,"  answered  the 
old  woman,  shortly. 

"  And  'twas  he,  Dona  Noco,  who  found  Coyo- 
cop,  the  spirit  of  the  sun,  by  the  shore  of  the 
great  sea  ?" 

"'Twas  Cabanacte  who  found  Coy ocop,  whose 
coming  was  foretold  when  the  mountains  were 
but  hillocks,  and  bore  her  to  the  sacred  City  of 
the  Sun." 

"  He  found  her  by  the  sea  alone  ?"  asked  de 
Sancerre,  wonderingly. 

"  The  Brother  of  the  Moon  should  know  all 
things,"  muttered  Noco,  with  satire  in  her  eyes 
and  voice.  Then  she  went  on :  "  The  white-faced 
children  of  the  moon  who  bore  her  to  our  land 
lay  sleeping  on  the  beach,  awaiting  the  coming  of 
their  god  to  waken  them.  But  Cabanacte  knew 
that  she  was  Coyocop.  And  so,  she  carne  to  us." 
149 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

From  outside  the  hut  de  Sancerre  could  hear 
the  noises  of  a  town  astir,  the  tread  of  bare 
footed  men  upon  the  hardened  earth,  the  cries  of 
children  at  their  play,  and,  now  and  then,  the 
voices  of  women  chattering  of  many  wondrous 
things.  He  longed  to  make  his  way  at  once  to 
Coyocop's  abode  that  with  his  eyes  he  might 
assure  himself  that  last  night's  strange  advent 
ures  had  not  taken  place  in  dreams.  Even  yet, 
he  found  it  hard  to  believe  that  Julia  de  Aquilar 
was,  in  reality,  a  captive,  like  himself,  in  this 
weird  town.  But  there  lay  her  own  handwrit 
ing  on  the  bark !  He  read  and  reread  the  mes 
sage  which  she  had  sent  to  him,  and,  turning  tow 
ard  Noco,  asked,  pensively : 

"  Coyocop,  sefiora,  seemed  glad  to  learn  that  I 
was  here?" 

"  I  know  not  what  the  chief  priest  may  have 
thought,"  croaked  the  old  crone,  a  gleam  of  mal 
ice  in  her  black  eyes  as  they  met  de  Sancerre's 
gaze,  "  but  to  me  she  seemed  less  like  a  goddess 
than  a  girl.  She  wept  for  joy  to  read  your 
note." 

De  Sancerre  sprang  to  his  feet  and  paced  up 
and  down  the  hut  restlessly. 

"Cabanacte!"  he  exclaimed,  petulantly.  "JVom 
de  Dieu  !  When  will  the  man  return  ?" 

"We  care  not  much  for  women  in  this  land  of 
ours,"  muttered  Noco,  using  her  broken  Spanish 
150 


DE   SANCERRE    BREAKS    HIS    FAST 

to  tease  her  impatient  guest.  "  Out  of  clay  the 
Great  Spirit  moulded  the  first  man,  and,  pleased 
with  what  he'd  made,  blew  into  him  the  breath 
of  life.  And  thus  he  fell  to  sneezing,  the  first 
man,  'til  from  his  nose  there  dropped  a  doll- 
shaped  thing  which  set  to  dancing  upon  the 
ground  there  at  his  feet.  And  as  she  danced, 
she  grew  in  size,  until  a  woman  stood  before  his 
eyes.  It  is  not  strange  that  man  should  make 
us  work!"  A  sarcastic  grin  rested  upon  the 
hag's  brown  face  as  she  gazed  up  at  de  Sancerre. 

"  Bat  Coyocop  is  more  than  woman,"  cried  de 
Sancerre,  earnestly.  "Caramba!  But  you  love 
to  torture  me,  seiiora !  I  say  to  you,  beware !  I 
know  not  what  may  lie  the  deepest  in  your 
heart,  but  this  I  say  to  you,  'twill  serve  you 
well  to  do  your  best  for  me.  The  time  is  com 
ing  when  I'll  pay  you  tenfold  for  your  kindness 
now." 

ISToco  drew  near  to  the  Frenchman  and  stood 
before  him,  listening  for  a  time  to  the  familiar 
noises  outside  her  hut.  Then  she  asked,  in  a 
tone  which  had  no  mischief  in  it : 

"The  Spanish,  senor?  Do  you  love  them 
well?" 

For  a  moment  de  Sancerre,  startled  by  so  un 
expected  an  interrogatory,  gazed  down  at  the 
old  hag,  speechless.  His  suspicious  mind  strove 
in  vain  to  find  her  motive  for  a  question  which 
151 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

seemed  to  him,  at  first,  to  have  no  bearing  upon 
the  topics  they  had  just  discussed.  But  his  in 
tuitions  told  him  that  upon  the  answer  he  should 
make  to  her  would  depend  her  attitude  toward 
him  from  this  time  forth.  By  one  word,  he  well 
knew,  he  might  destroy  in  an  instant  the  good 
will  of  the  one  ally  who  could  save  him  and  Julia 
de  Aquilar  from  the  dangers  which  menaced  them. 
Noco  spoke  Spanish,  a  tongue  which,  it  seemed 
probable,  she  had  learned  from  her  immediate 
ancestors.  That  the  Spaniards  had  treated  the 
native  Americans  with  great  cruelty,  de  Sancerre 
had  often  heard.  Was  it  possible  that  Noco  had 
inherited  a  hatred  for  a  race  of  oppressors  from 
Avhom  her  forebears  had  fled  in  fear  ?  On  the 
chance  that  this  might  be,  the  Frenchman,  hesi 
tating  only  a  moment,  decided  finally  to  tell  the 
truth  to  his  dusky  inquisitor. 

"  Dona  Noco,"  said  de  Sancerre,  impressively, 
placing  a  hand  upon  the  old  crone's  arm,  "  the 
Spanish  are  my  dearest  foes.  Often  have  I  led 
my  men  against  them  on  the  fields  of  war.  I  hold 
for  them  a  hatred  only  less  intense  than  the  love 
I  bear  for  Coyocop." 

The  dark,  beady  eyes  of  the  beldame  seemed 
to  search  de  Sancerre's  very  soul.  Suddenly  she 
fell  upon  her  knees,  and,  seizing  his  cold  hand, 
pressed  it  to  her  shrivelled  lips. 

"  I  am  your  servant,  senor — even  unto  death," 
152 


DE   SANCERRE    BREAKS    HIS    FAST 

she  muttered,  hoarsely.  Then  she  sprang  to  her 
feet  with  marvellous  agility  and  stood  listening 
intently,  as  if  the  noise  outside  bore  some  new 
tale  to  her  quick  ears. 

"  'Tis  Cabanacte !"  she  exclaimed.  "  And  with 
him  comes  the  sister  of  the  foolish  man  they 
slew." 

Hardly  had  de  Sancerre  grasped  the  signifi 
cance  of  her  words,  when  Katonah,  followed  by 
Noco's  grandson,  stole  into  the  hut,  panting  as  if 
their  journey  had  been  a  hurried  one. 

"  Bienvenue,  Katonah !"  cried  de  Sancerre,  a 
note  of  mingled  annoyance  and  surprise  in  his 
voice.  "  I  did  not  think  to  see  you  here  again. 
You  bring  me  word  from  Sieur  de  la  Salle?" 

Katonah's  sensitive  ear  caught  the  hollow 
sound  in  the  Frenchman's  word  of  welcome. 
The  suggestion  of  a  sad  smile  played  across  her 
weary  face,  as  she  said : 

"The  great  captain  urged  me  not  to  come. 
But,  monsieur,  I  was  so  lonely !  With  you  and 
Chaternuc  not  there,  I  could  not  sta}r."  A  sup 
pressed  sob  checked  her  words.  Handing  to  de 
Sancerre  a  note  from  de  la  Salle,  the  Mohican 
maiden  seated  herself  upon  a  bench  and  gazed 
mournfully  at  the  glowing  embers  of  Noco's 
dying  fire. 

"  Ma  foi,  Cabanacte,  I'm  glad  to  see  your 
giant  form  again !"  cried  de  Sancerre,  smiling  as 
153 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

he  perused  de  la  Salle's  epistle.     It  ran  as  fol 
lows  : 

"  Let  this  chance,  monsieur,  to  serve  your  king  atone  for 
your  disobedience  to  me.  Be  firm,  unbending,  and  conserva 
tive.  "Well  I  know  that  you  will  be  courageous.  Await  me 
where  you  are.  I  return  shortly,  and  will  send  for  you.  I 
must  teach  the  mouth  of  this  great  river  to  speak  the  name 
of  France.  I  go  to  ring  the  knell  of  Spain  !  Adieu  et  au 
revoir  ! 

"DE  LA  SALLE." 

"  Bien!"  exclaimed  de  Sancerre,  kissing  his 
hand  to  old  Noco,  smilingly.  "We  hold  the 
cards  we  need.  'Twill  be  my  fault  if  blunders 
now  should  lose  the  game  we  play." 

The  old  woman  had  come  to  the  side  of  her  ec 
centric  guest. 

"  My  captain,"  went  on  de  Sancerre,  in  a  lower 
tone,  "a  brother  of  the  moon-god,  like  myself, 
tells  me  in  this  note  that  he  goes  to  seize  a  king 
dom  from  our  Spanish  foes.  You  are  content, 
senora  ?  You  are  content  ?" 

"  Aye,  sefior,  well  content !"  answered  the  old 
hag  with  grim  emphasis. 

"  And  now,"  exclaimed  the  Frenchman,  beck 
oning  to  Cabanacte  to  approach  them,  "  we'll 
hold  a  solemn  council,  for  the  truth  is  this :  un 
less  I  soon  have  speech  with  Coyocop,  my  throb 
bing  heart  will  thump  itself  to  death.  Tell  me, 
Cabanacte,  is  there  danger  for  yon  maiden,  whose 
brother  died  the  death  ?" 
154 


DE  SANCERRE  BREAKS  HIS  FAST 

The  bronze  athlete  had  stretched  himself  at  de 
Sancerre's  feet  in  such  a  position  that  he  could 
fix  his  gaze  upon  the  sombre  beauty  of  Katonah's 
face.  He  showed  his  perfect  teeth,  and  his  black 
eyes  gleamed  as  he  answered : 

"Danger  for  her?  No,  none!  Not  while 
Cabanacte  lives." 

De  Sancerre  smiled  gayly.  Cabanacte's  an 
swer  had  delighted  him. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

IN     WHICH     DE      SANCERRE      HEARS      NEWS      OF     THE 
GREAT    SUN 

THE  Count  de  Sancerre's  desire  to  come  to 
an  immediate  decision  regarding  a  line  of  ac 
tion  that  should  lead  him  at  once  into  the  living 

o 

presence  of  Coyocop  was  not  to  be  gratified. 
Noco's  sensitive  ear,  acting  as  a  thermometer 
to  register  the  degree  of  excitement  prevail 
ing  outside  her  cabin,  had  heard  an  ominous 
murmur  that  had  lost  none  of  its  threatening 
significance  because  it  had  come  from  afar.  She 
knew  at  once  that  a  crowd  of  gossiping  sun- 
worshippers,  inspired  by  some  new  rumor,  had 
gathered  in  the  great  square  near  the  temple  of 
the  sun.  Hurrying  to  her  grandson's  side,  she 
said : 

"  Go  forth  at  once,  Cabanacte,  and  mingle 
with  the  throng  outside.  There's  news  abroad 
which  makes  the  city  talk.  Eeturn  to  us  when 
you  have  learned  the  meaning  of  the  uproar  in 
the  square." 

The  dark-hued  colossus  reluctantly  arose  and 
156 


NEWS    OF    THE    GREAT    SUN 

stood,  for  a  moment,  listening  to  the  increasing 
disturbance  among  his  easily-excited  neighbors. 
Hurrying  feet,  making  toward  the  temple  of  the 
sun  and  the  King's  cabin,  echoed  from  the  street 
just  outside  the  hut.  The  pattering  footsteps  of 
chattering  women  and  children  mingled  with  the 
louder  tread  of  stalwart  men,  aroused  from  their 
siesta  by  an  epidemic  of  distrust.  Cabanacte, 
dismayed  at  the  grim  possibilities  suggested  by 
this  unwonted  demonstration  upon  the  part  of  a 
people  little  given  to  activity  at  noonday,  bent 
down  to  Noco  before  obeying  her  behest. 

"  Secrete  the  maiden  where  no  prying  eye  can 
see  her,"  he  murmured,  hoarsely,  still  gazing  at 
Katonah.  "I'll  join  the  rabble  and  return  at 
once.  I  dread  the  cruel  fervor  of  our  priests. 
But  still  they  cannot  know  that  it  was  her  broth 
er  whom  they  killed  ?" 

"  Stop  not  to  make  conjecture,  Cabanacte," 
scolded  the  old  crone,  pushing  her  grandson 
toward  the  hut's  ignoble  exit.  "  I  say  to  you, 
'tis  not  Katonah  who  has  made  the  cicy  talk. 
'Tis  some  calamity — I  know  not  what." 

"Without  more  ado,  the  tall  sun  -  worshipper 
crawled  from  the  twilight  of  the  hut  into  the 
burning  sunshine  of  the  agitated  street,  and, 
drawing  himself  erect,  joined  the  gossiping 
throng  which  poured  noisily  toward  the  great 
square.  To  Cabanacte's  great  surprise  and  re- 
157 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

lief,  his  appearance  in  the  open  caused  no  added 
excitement  among  the  bronze-faced,  eager-eyed 
men  and  women  who  hurried  by  his  side  toward 
the  centre  of  the  town.  It  became  evident  to 
him  at  once  that  the  news  which  awaited  him 
beyond  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  strangers 
whom  he  had  left  in  the  hut  behind  him. 

Meanwhile  de  Sancerre,  vexed  at  the  delay  to 
which  a  mercurial  people  had  forced  him  to  sub 
mit,  gazed  despondently  now  at  Noco  and  now 
at  Katonah.  French  expletives,  colored  by  a 
Spanish  oath  at  times,  escaped  from  his  erst 
while  smiling  mouth.  Noco  had  stationed  her 
self  at  the  entrance  to  the  cabin,  endeavoring  to 
catch  the  echo  of  some  enlightening  rumor  as  it 
flew  back  from  the  crowded  square.  Katonah, 
watching  the  Frenchman  with  eyes  which  seemed 
to  implore  his  forgiveness,  had  withdrawn  to  a 
remote  corner  of  the  room  and  seated  herself 
wearily  upon  a  wooden  bench.  If  she  had  heard 
a  menace  to  herself  in  the  uproar  in  the  town,  she 
gave  no  outward  indication  of  the  dread  that  her 
heart  might  feel.  "With  the  proud  shyness  of  a 
sensitive  girl,  and  the  external  stoicism  of  an  Ind 
ian,  she  withdrew,  as  far  as  was  possible,  from  the 
presence  of  her  companions  and  made  no  further 
sign.  Had  Zenobe  Membre  known  that  at  this 
ominous  juncture  Katonah  had  murmured  no 
prayer,  no  invocation  to  the  saints,  the  sanguine 
158 


NEWS    OF    THE    GREAT    SUN 

Franciscan  would  have  marvelled,  perhaps  wept, 
at  the  mighty  gulf  which  stretched  between  the 
martyred  Chatemuc,  secure  in  Paradise,  and  a 
melancholy  maiden  who  had  known  the  faith 
and  lost  it. 

The  chagrined  Frenchman,  fully  realizing  his 
own  impotence  at  this  mysterious  crisis,  presently 
arose  and  began  to  pace  the  room  with  impatient 
steps.  He  felt  like  a  man  to  whom  some  unex 
pected  and  glowing  promise  had  been  given  by 
destiny,  to  be  withdrawn  almost  at  the  moment  of 
its  presentation.  During  the  long,  weary  hour 
which  followed  Cabanacte's  departure  from  the 
hut,  de  Sancerre's  mind  vibrated  between  hope 
and  despair.  Had  he  made  the  amazing  discov 
ery  of  Julia  de  Aquilar's  presence  in  the  City  of 
the  Sun  only  that  it  might  mock  him  for  his  lack 
of  power?  Could  it  be  that  fate  had  lured  him 
in  malice  within  sound  of  her  sweet  voice  to 
hurl  him  into  the  lonely  silence  of  the  wilderness 
at  last  ?  And  to  himself  he  swore  an  oath  that 
he  would  never  leave  the  City  of  the  Sun  alive 
unless  the  Spanish  maiden  fled  with  him  to  the 
wilds.  Death  in  the  effort  to  save  her  from 
years  of  hopeless  captivity  was  preferable,  a 
thousand  times,  to  life  and  freedom  and  a  vain 
regret.  How  well  he  loved  this  woman  de  San- 
cerre  had  never  known  before.  For  the  first 
time  this  mondain,  who  had  fondly  imagined 
159 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

that  life  had  nothing  new  to  give  him,  realized 
the  might  and  majesty  of  a  great  passion,  and 
his  soul  grew  sick  with  the  fear  that  its  ecstasy 
might  change  to  misery  at  last. 

But  while  de  Sancerre's  mind  dwelt  fondly 
upon  the  joy  of  an  all-absorbing  love,  it  en 
deavored,  at  the  same  time,  to  make  an  inven 
tory  of  the  actual  arid  the  possible  dangers  which 
he  would  be  compelled  to  confront  before  he 
could  indulge  the  hope  that  the  love  he  wel 
comed  would  ever  fulfil  the  promise  which  it 
held  within  itself. 

Weeks  must  pass  before  de  la  Salle  could  re 
turn  from  his  voyage  to  the  gulf.  Even  then 
the  explorer  had  at  his  command  no  force  with 
which  to  overcome  these  martial  and  stalwart 
sun  -  worshippers.  De  Sancerre's  only  hope  lay 
in  diplomacy  and  craft.  It  was  essential  to  the 
success  of  his  scheme,  whose  general  outlines 
were  already  forming  in  his  mind,  that  the  su 
perstitious  tendencies  of  the  people  surrounding 
him  be  used  as  a  tool  for  forging  his  escape. 
But  their  fanaticism  was  a  double-edged  instru 
ment  which  must  be  handled  with  the  nicest 
care  or  it  would  turn  within  his  hands  and  de 
stroy  him  at  a  blow. 

Coyocop?  How  far  could  he  trust  her  quick 
ness  and  discretion  ?  That  she  possessed  both  of 
these  qualities  he  was  inclined  to  believe.  One 
160 


NEWS    OF    THE    GREAT    SUN 

of  her  greatest  charms  in  the  blithesome  days  at 
Versailles  had  consisted  in  her  ready  responsive 
ness  to  his  changing  moods,  in  the  keenness  of  a 
mind  which  shone  to  advantage  even  in  that 
centre  of  the  great  world's  sharpest  wit.  As 
for  her  discretion,  had  it  not  been  proved  by 
the  fact  that  she  had  maintained  for  many 
months  her  alien  authority  over  these  fickle, 
jealous,  sharp-eyed  people?  Furthermore — and 
de  Sancerre  lingered  over  the  mystery  with  much 
concern — she  had,  during  that  same  period,  man 
aged  to  conceal  from  the  keen  -  witted  and  re 
vengeful  Noco  the  fact  that  her  origin  was 
Spanish,  not  divine.  How  well  the  girl  must 
have  played  a  most  exacting  part  to  deceive 
the  eccentric  old  hag,  de  Sancerre  fully  realized. 
That  in  Julia  de  Aquilar  he  would  find  an  ally 
well -fitted  to  play  the  role  which  he  had  in 
mind  for  her,  her  skill  in  blinding  Noco  gave 
good  proof.  But,  at  the  best,  de  Sancerre's 
growing  project  must  win  the  full  fruition  of 
success  much  more  by  chance  than  by  design. 
Even  before  he  took  initial  steps,  he  must  learn 
what  new  excitement  had  aroused  the  lazy  town 
at  noon. 

"Pestef"  he  exclaimed,  fretfully.  "It  was 
no  victory  to  outrun  Cabanacte.  His  heavy 
limbs  are  slower  than  a  Prussian's  wits." 

At  that  very  instant  the  hole  beside  which 

L  161 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

Noco  lurked  was  darkened  by  her  grandson's 
stooping  form.  Drawing  himself  erect,  after 
he  had  pulled  his  long  limbs  into  the  hut, 
Cabanacte  glanced  searchingly  around  the  room 
until  his  black  eyes  lighted  upon  the  self-ab 
sorbed  Katonah.  Then,  followed  by  !N"oco,  he 
strode  toward  de  Sancerre. 

"  There  is  no  danger  to  the  girl,"  muttered  the 
giant,  as  he  seated  himself  upon  a  bench,  which 
groaned  in  protest  beneath  his  weight.  "  But  I 
bring  to  you  bad  news." 

"Mafoi,  you  look  it!"  exclaimed  de  Sancerre 
to  himself,  scanning  the  troubled  countenance  of 
the  dusky  youth. 

Turning  to  Noco,  Cabanacte  poured  forth  rap 
idly  in  his  native  tongue  the  sombre  story  which 
he  had  heard  abroad,  and  then  stood  erect,  gaz 
ing  at  Katonah. 

"  The  Great  Sun  lies  dying !"  exclaimed  the 
old  woman,  excitedly,  turning  from  her  grand 
son  to  her  guest.  "In  perfect  health  at  sunrise, 
he  fell  near  noonday,  and  none  can  make  him 
speak." 

De  Sancerre  had  sprung  to  his  feet  and  was 
glancing  alternately  down  at  JSToco  and  up  at 
Cabanacte.  The  menacing  significance  of  the 
misfortune  which  had  fallen  upon  the  King  ap 
peared  to  him  at  once.  Had  evil  come  to  the 
Great  Sun  in  some  way  not  readily  explainable, 
162 


NEWS    OF    THE    GREAT    SUN 

the  crafty  sun-priests  would  lay  his  sickness  to 
the  blighting  influence  of  the  stranger's  magic, 
the  fatal  witchery  brought  with  him  from  the 
moon. 

"  He's  dying,  do  you  say  ?  There  is  no  hope  3" 
gasped  the  Frenchman,  looking  into  Noco's  eyes 
for  a  ray  of  encouragement. 

"  He's  dying  as  his  mother  died,"  muttered  the 
old  crone,  musingly,  seemingly  forgetful  of  de 
Sancerre's  presence.  "  But,  even  then,  he  had 
long  years  to  live.  And  yesterday  he  looked  no 
older  than  my  Cabanacte  there." 

"  He's  dying,  do  you  say  ?"  repeated  the  French 
man,  mechanically. 

"  Aye,  dying,  senor,"  hissed  the  beldame,  spite 
fully.  "And  now  the  temple  priests  prepare  the 
cords  with  wThich  they'll  choke  his  servants  and 
his  wives  to  death.  No  Great  Sun  goes  alone 
into  the  land  beyond !  What  sights  my  eyes 
have  seen!  King  follows  king  into  the  spirit- 
world,  and  with  them  go  the  best  and  noblest 
of  our  weeping  race.  Aye,  senor,  the  Great 
Sun's  dying  and  the  city  mourns.  When  he 
has  passed,  his  household  follows  him.  The 
sight  you  saw  but  yesternight  was  child's-play 
for  the  priests.  'Tis  when  a  Great  Sun  dies  they 
have  man's  sport  with  death." 

The  mocking,  angry  tones  in  Noco's  guttural 
voice  made  the  broken  Spanish  in  which  she 
163 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

spoke  impress  the  Frenchman's  ears  as  a  most 
repellent  tongue.  De  Sancerre  was  striving  fe 
verishly  to  grasp  the  full  significance  of  her  grim 
words,  to  weigh  in  all  its  bearings  the  new  exi 
gency  which  had  increased  a  hundredfold  the 
peril  in  which  he  stood.  But  the  thought  beset 
him,  with  tyrannical  persistence,  that  he  had  no 
time  to  lose.  Should  the  Great  Sun  die  at  once, 
de  Sancerre  would  be  powerless  against  any  re 
venge  which  the  sun-priests  might,  in  their  crafty 
cruelty,  seek  to  take.  How  far  the  homage 
which  they  paid  to  Coyoccp  could  be  trusted  to 
save  him  in  the  crisis  which  would  follow  the 
King's  death  he  could  not  determine,  but  he  had 
begun  to  fear  that  not  only  the  priests  but  the 
people  at  large  would  hold  him  responsible  for 
the  sudden  and  mysterious  blow  which  had  fallen 
upon  the  throne.  With  little  time  at  his  disposal 
in  which  to  examine  the  crisis  from  many  points 
of  view,  de  Sancerre  came  quickly  to  the  conclu 
sion  that  his  doom  was  sealed  unless  he  acted 
with  boldness,  decision,  and  rapidity.  Satisfied 
of  the  loyalty  of  ]SToco  and  Cabanacte,  although 
he  marvelled  somewhat  at  their  good  -  will,  he 
drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  and,  putting 
up  his  hand  to  command  silence,  said : 

"Go  forth  at  once,  Cabanacte,  and  tell  the 
people  of  this  afflicted  town  that  it  was  the  in 
sult  cast  upon  me  by  the  temple  priests  which 
164 


NEWS    OF    THE    GREAT    SUN 

brought  down  the  wrath  of  Heaven  upon  the 
Great  Sun's  head.  Tell  this  to  the  rabble.  Then 
go  to  the  chief  priest  and  say  to  him  that  he, 
too,  shall  fall  with  suddenness  before  his  fire  un 
less  he  heeds  the  words  that  I  shall  speak.  Bid 
him  be  silent  'til  I  come  to  him,  and  to  keep 
his  priests  at  prayer.  Nom  de  Dieu,  my  Caba- 
nacte,  have  you  lost  your  ears?  Stop  staring  at 
me  and  go  forth  at  once,  or,  with  the  ease  with 
which  my  legs  outran  you,  I'll  strike  you  dead 
with  this!" 

Waving  his  rapier  threateningly  at  the  giant's 
panting  breast,  de  Sancerre  drove  the  startled 
athlete  through  the  entrance  to  the  street,  and 
then  turned  back  to  seize  the  trembling  Noco  by 
the  arm. 

"I  have  a  message  which  you  must  take  to 
Coyocop !  If  you  should  fail  to  gain  her  ear, 
the  City  of  the  Sun  is  doomed.  Say  this  to  her, 
that  when  I  send  a  priest  to  summon  her  she 
must  be  quick  to  join  me  at  the  Great  Sun's 
lodge.  Repeat  my  words,  sefiora." 

Shaking  the  old  crone  roughly  by  the  arm,  de 
Sancerre  bent  down  to  catch  her  gasping  voice. 

"Bleu!"  he  cried,  "you've  conned  your  lesson 
well !  Go,  now,  senora,  and  make  no  mistake ! 
If  you  would  save  your  dying  king,  see  Coyocop 
and  tell  her  what  I  say." 

In  another  instant  the  panting  ISToco,  grum- 
165 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

bling  but  overawed,  had  left  the  hut  upon  a  mis 
sion  for  which  she  had  no  hungry  heart. 

De  Sancerre  drew  back  from  the  entrance,  and 
dropped  limply  upon  a  bench.  He  had  put  into 
operation  a  hastily  -  formed  plan  with  an  impet 
uosity  which,  in  its  rebound,  left  him  faint  and 
dazed.  Suddenly  a  warm  pressure  upon  his  cold 
hands  aroused  him  from  his  momentary  submis 
sion  to  this  enervating  reaction.  Looking  down, 
he  saw  that  Katonah  was  gazing  up  at  him  with 
sympathetic  apprehension. 

"  I  have  placed  you  in  great  danger  by  my  re 
turn  !"  she  exclaimed.  "  I  am  going  now.  I 
will  not  come  back." 

She  had  arisen  and  was  about  to  leave  the  hut. 
Seizing  her  hand,  de  Sancerre  drew  her  to  his 
side. 

"  No,  ma  petite  !  You  are  not  at  fault !  Don't 
leave  me — but  do  not  speak !  I  must  think — I 
must  think !  But  my  mind's  in  a  whirl.  Courage, 
Katonah !  There,  do  not  tremble  so !  M a  foi, 
little  one,  'tis  a  hard  nut  we  have  to  crack ! 
There,  do  not  move !  Let  me  take  your  hand. 
JBien  !  Now,  let  me  think !" 

Silence,  intense,  unbroken,  reigned  within  the 
hut ;  while,  outside,  the  hot  sun  beat  down  upon 
a  city  in  which  rumor  itself  had  become  voice 
less  in  growing  dread  of  a  fatal  word. 


CHAPTER  XIX 
IN   WHICH   COHEYOGO   EXHIBITS   HIS   CKAFTINESS 

WHILE  the  Great  Sun,  by  virtue  of  his  divine 
origin,  was  technically  the  high-priest  of  the  na 
tion,  it  had  come  about,  at  the  time  of  Count 
Louis  de  Sancerre's  sojourn  among  the  sun-wor 
shippers,  that  the  chief  of  the  holy  men,  upon 
whom  devolved  the  duty  of  keeping  alive  the 
sacred  fire,  had,  by  the  strength  of  his  bigoted 
personality,  usurped  all  religious  authority  and 
had  made  the  temple  independent  of,  and  more 
potent  than,  the  royal  cabin.  While  the  chief 
priest  had  never  openly  defied  the  Great  Sun,  he 
had,  nevertheless,  gradually  become  the  most  in 
fluential  personage  in  the  nation. 

It  was  the  advent  of  Coyocop  which  had  given 
to  Coheyogo,  the  chief  priest,  an  opportunity  for 
making  himself,  with  no  visible  break  between 
the  church  and  state,  practically  omnipotent  in 
the  City  of  the  Sun. 

Just  how  thoroughly  Coheyogo  believed  that 
Julia  de  Aquilar  was  the  very  incarnation  of  the 
sun-spirit  which,  tradition  had  assured  his  peo- 
167 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

pie,  would  come  to  them  from  the  shore  of  a  dis 
tant  sea,  it  is  impossible  to  say.  It  is  a  fact, 
however,  that  from  the  moment  of  her  arrival 
among  the  sun-worshippers  the  chief  priest  had 
openly  accepted  the  maiden  as  a  supernatural 
guest  from  whom  emanated  an  authority  which 
he  and  his  fellow-priests  were  in  duty  bound  to 
obey.  For  the  furtherance  of  his  own  ends  and 
the  increase  of  his  own  power,  the  crafty  Cohe- 
yogo  could  have  taken  no  better  course. 

It  had  come  about  that  Noco  as  interpreter — 
the  connecting  link  between  the  spirit  of  the  sun 
and  the  chief  priest  of  the  temple  —  had  found 
herself  in  a  position  of  great  influence.  The  old 
hag,  a  compound  of  superstition,  spitefulness, 
and  saturnine  humor  done  up  in  a  crumpled 
brown  package,  had  derived  malicious  satisfac 
tion  from  playing  Coheyogo's  game  with  a  skill 
and  an  audacity  which  had  saved  her  from  the 
many  perils  which  had  menaced  her  in  the  pur 
suit  of  this  eccentric  pastime. 

Coheyogo  would  visit  Coyocop  with  ISToco  and 
lay  before  the  sun-spirit  some  problem  dealing 
with  the  attitude  of  the  temple  toward  a  question 
at  that  moment  interesting  the  sun-worshippers. 
The  quick-witted  and  fearless  interpreter  would 
answer  the  chief  priest  with  advice  originating 
in  her  own  fertile  brain,  and,  in  this  way,  would 
protect  Coyocop  from  cares  of  state,  while  she 
1G8 


COHEYOGO    EXHIBITS    CRAFTINESS 

made  a  willing  tool  of  Coheyogo  and  satisfied 
her  own  love  of  mischief.  Within  well-defined 
limitations,  old  Noco,  at  the  moment  oi  which 
we  write,  held  under  her  control  more  actual 
power  than  either  the  Great  Sun  or  the  chief 
priest.  As  the  tongue  of  Coyocop,  the  court  of 
last  resort  in  a  priest-ridden  state,  the  old  crone, 
with  little  fear  of  detection,  could  put  into  the 
mouth  of  the  sun-spirit  whatever  words  she  chose. 
Fortunately  for  Coyocop  and  the  sun-wTorshippers, 
the  aged  linguist  was,  at  heart,  progressive  rather 
than  reactionary.  She  had  cherished  for  years  a 
detestation  for  the  bloody  sacrifices  of  the  temple, 
which  heterodoxy,  had  Coheyogo  suspected  it, 
would  have  long  ago  brought  her  life  to  a  sud 
den  end.  As  it  was,  the  old  interpreter  had 
made  use  of  Coyocop  to  mitigate,  as  far  as  possible, 
the  horrors  which  a  cruel  cult,  administered  by 
heartless  priests,  had  inflicted  upon  a  brave,  kind 
ly,  but  too  plastic  race. 

It  was  now  a  full  hour  past  high  noon,  and 
Coheyogo  stood,  surrounded  by  the  temple 
priests,  confronting  Cabanacte  by  the  sacred  fire. 
The  interior  of  the  sun-temple  was  not  less  re 
pulsive  to  an  unbiassed  eye  than  the  skull-crowned 
palisades  outside.  Divided  into  two  rooms  of 
unequal  size,  the  interior  of  the  blood-stained 
fane  served  the  double  purpose  of  a  gigantic 
oven  to  keep  the  veins  of  the  living  at  fever-heat 
1G9 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

and  of  a  tomb  in  which  the  bones  of  the  noble  dead 
might  crumble  into  dust.  In  the  larger  of  the 
two  rooms,  in  which  the  chief  priest  was  now 
holding  a  council  of  the  elders,  stood  an  altar 
seven  feet  long  by  two  in  width  and  rising  to  a 
height  of  four  feet  above  the  floor.  Upon  this 
altar  rested  a  long,  hand-painted  basket  in  which 
reposed  the  remains  of  the  reigning  Great  Sun's 
immediate  predecessor. 

The  heat  of  the  room  was  intense,  for  no  win 
dows  broke  the  monotony  of  the  temple's  walls; 
mud-baked  partitions,  nine  inches  in  thickness. 
Eows  of  plaited  mats  covered  the  arched  ceiling  of 
the  interior.  At  the  end  of  the  room  furthest 
from  the  sacred  fire,  folding  doors,  closed  at  this 
moment,  opened  into  the  private  apartments  of 
the  chief  priest.  Eunning  from  these  doors, 
along  both  sides  of  the  smoke  -  blackened  hall, 
wooden  shelves  supported  the  grewsome  relics  of 
horrid  ceremonials.  Long  lines  of  baskets,  daubed 
with  red  and  yellow  paint,  contained  the  revered 
dust  of  Great  Suns  gone  into  the  land  of  spirits 
accompanied  by  the  loyal  souls  of  their  strangled 
wives  and  retainers.  Scattered  between  these 
tawdry  urns,  the  shelves  bore  crudely -wrought 
clay  figures  of  men,  women,  serpents,  owls, 
and  eagles;  and  here  and  there  an  offering 
of  fruit,  meat,  or  fish  stood  ready  to  satisfy 
the  craving  of  any  uneasy  ghost  coming  back 
170 


COHEYOGO    EXHIBITS    CRAFTINESS 

dissatisfied  with  the  cuisine  of  the  spirit- 
world. 

Grouped  around  the  sacred  fire,  in  which  logs 
of  oak  and  walnut  preserved  a  flame  which  the 
sun-god  had  vouchsafed  to  man  in  a  remote  day 
of  grace,  the  temple  priests,  whose  dark  faces 
bore  evidence  of  their  internal  agitation,  stood 
listening  and  watching  as  Cabanacte  and  Coheyo- 
go  faced  each  other  at  this  crisis  and  discussed, 
in  subdued  tones,  a  question  of  immediate,  signif 
icance.  As  the  chosen  discoverer  of  Coyocop, 
the  instrument  employed  by  the  great  spirit  for 
the  fulfilment  of  an  ancient  prophecy,  Cabanacte 
occupied  an  influential  position  in  the  eyes  of 
the  temple  brotherhood.  The  inspiration  from 
on  high,  which  had  turned  the  giant's  feet  toward 
a  haunted  shingle  upon  which  the  spirit  of  the 
sun  lay  asleep,  might  at  any  moment  stir  his 
tongue  with  words  of  divine  origin.  Since  the 
night  upon  which  Cabanacte  had  brought  Coyo 
cop  to  the  City  of  the  Sun,  he  had  always  been 
listened  to  with  rapt  attention  by  the  jealous 
guardians  of  the  sacred  fire. 

"He  threatens  me,  you  say?"  muttered  Cohe- 
yogo  angrily,  gazing  up  at  Cabanacte  with  flash 
ing  eyes.  "  And  you  have  told  the  people  that 
the  Great  Sun  dies  because  I  do  not  worship 
this  white-faced  conjurer  who  says  the  moon  is 
his?  Beware,  oh  Cabanacte,  what  you  do!  I'll 
171 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

dare  the  magic  of  his  silver  wand  and  prove  to 
him  the  sun-god  is  omnipotent." 

Drawing  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  until  he 
towered  a  full  half -foot  above  the  stately  sun- 
priest,  Cabanacte  exclaimed,  in  a  low,  insistent 
voice : 

"Have  you  forgotten  Coyocop?  Did  she  not 
last  night — old  Noco  tells  the  tale — command 
you  to  do  honor  to  this  white  face  from  the  moon? 
'Tis  you,  Coheyogo,  who  should  now  take  heed. 
'Tis  not  moon-magic  which  you  would  defy. 
'Tis  Coyocop  herself,  the  spirit  of  the  sun,  our 
god." 

The  chief  priest  remained  silent  for  a  time, 
gazing  thoughtfully  at  the  sacred  fire,  which 
seemed  to  roar  and  flash  and  snap  and  dance 
before  his  restless  black  eyes  as  if  it  threatened 
him  with  tortures  for  harboring  a  sacrilegious 
thought.  Had  not  the  spirit  of  the  sun  itself, 
through  Coyocop's  inspired  tongue,  commanded 
him  to  treat  the  nation's  white-faced  guest  with 
all  respect?  The  great  power  which  Coheyogo 
had  wielded  for  a  year  seemed  to  be  slipping  from 
his  grasp.  Its  foundation-stone  had  been  the 
word  of  Coyocop.  Should  he  not  heed  her  late 
behest  he'd  pull  the  very  underpinning  from 
beneath  his  tower  of  strength.  Furthermore,  the 
Great  Sun,  an  easy-going  monarch,  subservient  to 
the  chief  priest's  stronger  will,  lay  at  death's 
172 


COHEYOGO    EXHIBITS    CRAFTINESS 

door.  His  successor  to  the  throne,  his  sister's 
son,  Manatte,  was  a  headstrong,  stubborn  youth, 
upon  whom  the  influence  of  Coheyogo  was  but 
slight.  Should  the  chief  priest  lose  at  one  stroke 
the  countenance  of  Coyocop  and  the  good-will 
of  the  Great  Sun,  the  supremacy  of  the  temple 
would  be  destroyed  upon  the  instant,  and  Cohe 
yogo  would  find  himself  hurled  from  a  pinnacle 
of  power  to  a  grovelling  attitude  among  a  people 
chafing  under  the  cruel  tyranny  of  a  bloodthirsty 
priesthood.  Turning  fretfully  from  the  threaten 
ing  blaze  to  glance  up  again  at  the  steady  eyes 
of  Cabanacte,  the  chief  priest  said: 

"The  words  of  Coyocop  come  straight  from 
God."  Facing  then  the  expectant  priests,  he 
cried  sternly  :  "  Go  forth,  my  brothers,  and  bid 
the  people  to  disperse  at  once.  Tell  them  to  go 
to  their  homes  and  offer  prayers  that  the  Great 
Sun  may  be  spared  to  us.  Then  come  to  me 
here,  for  I  have  other  work  for  you  to  do." 

Left  alone  in  the  stifling  room  with  Cabanacte, 
the  chief  priest  went  on  : 

"  Direct  the  moon-man  and  old  Noco  to  attend 
me  here.  If  yonder  white  face  has  no  evil  wish, 
it  may  be  that  his  magic  may  save  our  king  from 
death." 

Cabanacte  smiled  grimly. 

"  I  know  not,  Coheyogo,"  he  remarked,  as  he 
turned  toward  the  exit  to  the  temple,  "  that  the 
173 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

envoy  from  the  moon,  will  heed  your  curt  com 
mand.  But  this  I  do  believe,  that,  if  besought, 
he'd  use  his  greatest  power  to  save  our  Sun  alive. 
I  will  return  to  you  at  once." 

With  these  words  the  dusky  giant  strode  past 
the  hideous,  grinning  idols  of  baked  clay,  and 
the  plaited  coffins  of  the  royal  dead,  and  made 
his  way  to  the  great  square  from  which  the 
white-robed  priests  were  driving  an  awestruck, 
moaning  people  to  their  homes. 

Coheyogo,  glancing  furtively  around  the  de 
serted  hall  in  which  the  spectres  of  the  dead 
seemed  ready  to  chase  the  flickering  shadows 
cast  by  the  miraculous  fire,  bent  down  and  threw 
a  huge  log  into  the  mocking  flame,  as  if  to  quiet 
for  a  moment  its  spiteful,  chiding  voice.  Sud 
denly  behind  him  he  heard  the  stealthy  footfall  of 
a  white-robed  underling.  Turning  quickly  from 
the  fire,  Coheyogo's  piercing  eyes  rested  upon  a 
priest  whom  he  had  recently  despatched  to  the 
Great  Sun's  cabin. 

"  What  news  ?"  cried  the  chief  priest,  eagerly. 
"He  still  lives?" 

"Magani!  Listen,  master!  He  lives,  and, 
tossing  on  his  bed,  mutters  strange  words  beneath 
his  breath.  'Tis  a  devil  that  is  in  him,  for  he 
talks  of  things  we  cannot  see." 

"And  his  physician?"  asked  Coheyogo,  im 
patiently. 

174 


COHEYOGO    EXHIBITS    CRAFTINESS 

"  He  has  done  his  best,  but  his  eyes  are  wild 
and  he  shakes  his  head  in  impotence." 

"He'll  shake  it  in  the  noose  should  the  Great 
Sun  die,"  muttered  the  chief  priest,  with  cruel 
emphasis.  "  What  boots  his  boasted  skill  if  he 
fails  us  when  we  need  him  most  ?  But,  hark ! 
Our  brothers  have  returned." 

Filing  into  the  temple  like  a  procession  of 
white  ghosts  with  charred  faces,  the  priests  of 
the  sun  grouped  themselves  in  a  circle  behind 
their  chief,  and  stood  awaiting  in  silence  the  out 
come  of  a  crisis  which  might,  at  its  worst,  satisfy 
their  ever-present  craving  for  human  sacrifices  to 
offer  to  their  god,  the  innocent  and  genial  orb 
of  day.  That  the  cruel  and  crafty  Coheyogo 
dreaded  the  news  of  the  Great  Sun's  death  more 
keenly  than  they,  in  their  love  for  an  inhuman 
custom,  desired  it,  they  had  no  means  of  know 
ing.  But  they  were  to  learn  presently  that  there 
was  a  new  force  at  work  in  their  city  with  which 
they  had  never  before  been  called  upon  to  deal. 
As  they  stood  there  silent,  eager-eyed,  remorseless, 
longing  for  a  continuance  of  the  thrilling  sport 
for  which  the  death  of  Chatemuc  had  but  whetted 
their  appetites,  the  sound  of  light,  dainty  foot 
steps  approaching  the  entrance  to  the  temple 
reached  their  quick  ears.  Turning  toward  the 
doorway  at  the  further  end  of  the  hall,  Coheyogo 
and  his  motionless  and  noiseless  brood  gazed 
175 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

upon  an  approaching  figure  which,  in  spite  of  its 
lack  of  size,  was  most  impressive  at  that  fateful 
moment.  De  Sancerre  had  donned  a  flowing 
garment  of  white  mulberry  bark,  which  hid  his 
gay  velvets  from  view  and  fell  in  graceful  lines 
from  his  neck  to  his  feet.  His  head  was  bare, 
and  his  hair,  a  picturesque  mixture  of  black  and 
gray,  emphasized  the  pleasing  contour  of  his  pale, 
clean-cut  face. 

With  drawn  rapier,  the  symbol  of  his  dreaded 
moon-magic,  the  French  aristocrat,  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  chief  priest,  strode  solemnly  tow 
ard  the  sacred  fire,  followed  at  a  distance  by 
JN"oco  and  her  long- limbed  grandson.  As  he 
came  to  a  halt  in  front  of  Coheyogo,  de  Sancerre 
raised  the  hilt  of  his  sword  to  his  chin  and  made 
a  graceful,  sweeping  salute  with  the  weapon. 
Turning  to  Noco,  who  had  now  reached  his  side, 
he  said  to  her: 

"  Say  to  the  chief  priest  that  I  come  to  him  in 
amity  or  in  defiance,  as  he  may  choose.  Tell 
him  that  the  Brother  of  the  Moon  makes  no  idle 
boasts,  but  that  'tis  safer  for  the  City  of  the  Sun 
to  win  his  friendship  than  to  arouse  his  wrath." 

Coheyogo,  with  a  face  which  none  could  read, 
listened  attentively  to  the  old  crone's  defiant 
words.  His  black  eyes  held  the  Frenchman's 
gaze  to  his.  There  was  something  in  the  latter's 
glance  that  exercised  upon  the  sun-worshipper 
176 


11 


COHEYOGO    EXHIBITS    CRAFTINESS 

a  potent  fascination,  an  influence  more  effective 
than  the  impression  made  upon  him  by  Noco's 
speech.  The  lower  type  of  man  succumbed,  in 
spite  of  his  physical  superiority,  to  the  will-power 
of  a  higher  and  more  complicated  intellect  than 
his  own.  Even  had  Coheyogo  considered  it  ex 
pedient  at  that  moment  to  wreak  summary  ven 
geance  upon  his  white-faced,  smiling  challenger, 
it  is  to  be  doubted  that  his  tongue  could  have 
uttered,  the  words  which  would  have  sent  de 
Sancerre  to  his  doom.  Cool,  motionless,  with  un 
flinching  eyes  and  a  mouth  which  wore  the  out 
lines  of  a  derisive  smile,  the  undersized  French 
man  stood  watching  the  chief  priest,  outwardly 
as  self-confident  as  if  he  had  possessed,  in  real 
ity,  the  destructive  power  of  which  he  boasted. 
Presently  Coheyogo  turned  to  Noco,  whose 
wrinkled  countenance  was  twitching  with  ex 
citement  in  the  fitful  glow  of  the  sacred  fire. 

"  The  Chief  Priest  of  the  Sun  has  no  quarrel 
with  the  Brother  of  the  Moon,"  said  the  old  hag, 
addressing  de  Sancerre  a  moment  later.  "  But 
he  says  to  him  that  the  Great  Sun,  in  health  and 
strength  at  sunrise,  now  lies  tossing  in  peril  of 
his  life.  Is  it  true,  he  asks,  that  you  have 
threatened  to  bring  down  the  same  strange 
sickness  upon  the  temple  priests?" 

'-  JSTot  if  they  do  the  bidding  of  Coyocop,  the 
spirit  of  the  sun,"  answered  de  Sancerre,  curtly, 
M  177 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

closely  scanning  Coheyogo's  face  as  Noco  re 
peated  his  words.  Then  he  turned  to  the  inter 
preter  and  went  on : 

"  Let  the  chief  priest  understand  that  the  spirit 
of  the  sun  and  the  spirit  of  the  moon  go  hand  in 
hand,  to  the  greater  glory  of  the  God  of  gods. 
Say  to  him  that  together  Coyocop  and  I  can 
make  a  nation  great  or  destroy  it  at  a  word. 
Disobedience  to  us  is  impiety  to  God.  If  he, 
Coheyogo,  would  know  this  truth,  he  must  be 
docile,  patient,  and  abide  my  time.  If  in  his 
mind  the  shadow  of  a  doubt  remains  that  what  I 
say  is  true,  let  him  recall  the  legends  of  his  race, 
the  promises  and  prophecies  which  your  fathers 
told  their  sons." 

There  reigned  an  ominous  silence  in  the  sti 
fling,  ill-smelling  room  for  a  time,  broken  only 
by  the  malicious  crackling  of  the  sacred  fire  or 
the  impatient  grunt  of  some  overwrought  priest. 
Coheyogo,  fearing  to  lose  his  power  by  accepting 
the  proffered  alliance,  but  too  superstitious  to 
defy  the  unseen  rulers  of  the  universe  by  reject 
ing  it,  stood,  grim  and  self-absorbed,  scanning  a 
distressing  problem  from  many  points  of  view. 
He  dared  not  offend  Coyocop,  but  he  resented 
de  Sancerre's  claim  to  a  share  in  the  supernat 
ural  authority  which  the  sun- worshippers  had  at 
tributed  to  her.  After  long  reflection,  the  chief 
priest  looked  down  at  the  grinning  JSToco  and  said . 
178 


COHEYOGO    EXHIBITS    CRAFTINESS 

"  Say  to  the  Brother  of  the  Moon  that  if  he 
has  sufficient  power  to  bring  down  destruction 
upon  this  City  of  the  Sun,  or  even  to  cast  an  evil 
spell  upon  our  king,  he  is  wise  enough  to  cure 
the  latter  of  the  sickness  which  has  laid  him  low. 
If  he  will  lead  the  Great  Sun  back  to  us  from 
the  very  gates  of  death,  he  will  find  within  this 
temple  none  but  servants  glad  to  pay  him  hom 
age  and  obey  his  words.  But,  if  he  fails  to  raise 
our  king,  'twill  prove  to  us  he  either  boasts  too 
much  or  bears  us  no  good  will." 

De  Sancerre's  lips  turned  a  shade  lighter,  but 
the  mocking  smile  did  not  desert  them,  as  JSToco 
translated  Coheyogo's  ultimatum  into  her  clumsy 
Spanish.  But  even  in  that  moment  of  supreme 
dismay,  when  his^life,  so  he  reflected,  had  been 
staked  against  loaded  dice,  the  Frenchman  could 

O  7 

not  refrain  from  casting  a  glance  of  admiration 
at  the  crafty  priest  who  had  played  his  game  so 
well.  If  de  Sancerre  should  undertake  the  res 
toration  of  the  Great  Sun's  health  and  should 
fail  to  save  his  life,  even  Coyocop  would  be 
powerless  to  protect  him  from  the  fate  which 
had  befallen  Chatemuc.  He  had  planned  to  visit 
the  sick-bed  of  the  King,  and  to  send  for  Julia 
de  Aquilar  to  meet  him  there,  should  he  find 
that  the  Great  Sun  lay  afflicted  by  no  contagious 
disease.  But  de  Sancerre  had  not  foreseen  that 
his  boastfulness — which  had  served  him.  well  at 
179 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

times — would  place  him  in  his  present  plight, 
making  his  very  life  dependent  upon  his  skill  as 
a  physician.  He  dared  not  hesitate,  however,  to 
accept  the  gauntlet  thrown  down  by  the  keen 
witted  schemer,  whose  black  eyes  were  now  fixed 
upon  him  with  a  sardonic,  defiant  gleam. 

"  It  will  give  me  great  joy  to  restore  my 
friend,  the  ruler  of  this  land,  to  health,"  said 
de  Sancerre  calmly  to  Noco,  his  gaze  still  meet- 
ing  Coheyogo's  unwaveringly.  "Will  you  re 
quest  the  chief  priest  to  accompany  me  to  the 
royal  bedside?" 

With  these  words,  the  Frenchman  turned  his 
back  upon  the  sacred  fire  and  its  jealous  guardian, 
and  strode  haughtily  toward  the  temple's  exit. 

" Nwn  de  Dieu"  he  muttered  to  himself, 
"  I  know  more  about  the  slaying  of  my  fellow- 
men  than  how  to  save  them  from  the  jaws  of 
death!  I  would  I  could  recall  the  odds  and  ends 
of  medicine  I've  gathered  in  my  time!  But, 
even  then,  I  fear  my  skill  would  not  suffice.  The 
Great  Sun,  if  I  mistake  not,  has  no  more  to  gain 
from  me  than  I  from  him.  St.  Maturin,  be  kind 
to  us !" 


CHAPTER  XX 

IN    WHICH    A    WHITE    ROBE    FAILS    TO    PEOTECT 
A    BLACK    HEART 

SEATED  upon  a  low  couch  of  plaited  reeds, 
Julia  de  Aquilar,  her  white,  slender  hands  folded 
upon  her  lap,  and  her  dark,  eloquent  eyes  turned 
upward  as  if  they  rested  upon  the  Virgin  Moth 
er's  face,  listened  for  the  footsteps  of  a  world 
ling  and  a  sceptic,  whose  irreverent  tongue  had 
often  in  her  hearing  made  sport  of  love  itself. 
Her  year  in  captivity  as  a  celestial  guide  and 
counsellor  to  a  half -savage  race  had  softened, 
while  preserving,  the  splendid  coloring  of  her 
flawless  complexion.  Paler  than  of  old,  her  face 
had  lost  none  of  its  marvellous  symmetry,  and 
the  warm  hue  of  her  curving  lips  bo~e  witness 
to  the  triumph  which  youth,  in  its  abounding 
elasticity,  had  won  over  the  allied  forces  of  lone 
liness  and  despair.  The  shadows  beneath  her 
expectant  eyes  had  but  added  to  their  glowing 
splendor.  Long  days  and  nights  of  re  very  and 
introspection  had  changed  the  dominant  expres 
sion  of  her  face,  somewhat  too  haughty  afore- 
181 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

time,  and  a  gentle  radiance  seemed  to  emanate 
from  a  countenance  which  had  gained  an  added 
fascination  from  the  spiritualizing  touches  of  a 
sorrow  too  deep  for  tears. 

The  room  in  which  Dona  Julia  sat  at  this  mo 
ment,  watching  and  praying  for  a  rescuer  whose 
advent  had  been  made  possible  only  through  a 
miracle  vouchsafed  by  Mary  and  the  saints,  tes 
tified  to  the  homage  which  was  paid  by  the  sun- 
worshippers  to  the  spirit,  Coyocop.  Bunches 
of  early  spring  flowers,  borne  to  her  cabin  by 
devotees  who  had  never  looked  upon  her  face, 
were  scattered  in  profusion  upon  the  earthen 
floor  and  along  the  wooden  shelves  fitted  into 
the  gray  walls.  Offerings  of  dried  fruits,  and 
more  substantial  edibles,  indicated  the  anxiety 
of  an  afflicted  people  to  propitiate  the  unseen 
powers  in  this  day  of  peril  to  their  prostrate 
chief.  Fabrics  woven  with  commendable  skill 
in  various  colors,  and  bits  of  pottery  showing 
artistic  possibilities  in  the  makers  thereof,  added 
to  the  polychromatic  ensemble  of  Coyocop's  sa 
cred  retreat.  At  that  very  instant  Dona  Julia 
could  hear  the  murmurs  of  a  group  of  devout 
sun-worshippers,  who  had  come  from  the  bud 
ding  forest  to  pile  before  her  door  great  heaps 
of  magnolia  blossoms  to  bear  witness  to  their 
reverence  for  the  beneficent  spirit  of  the  sun,  and 
to  their  hope  that  she  would  save  them  from 
182 


A    BLACK    HEART 

their  threatening  doom.  The  skull -bedecked 
temple  of  the  sun  stood  for  all  that  was  most 
savage  in  a  cult  demanding  human  blood.  The 
hut  of  Coyocop,  wellnigh  hidden  from  the  noon 
day  by  sacrificial  flowers,  gave  forth  a  fragrant 
incense  which  arose  from  an  altar  built  of  loving 
hearts. 

It  was  the  assurance,  Avhich  had  come  to  her 
in  many  ways,  that  she  possessed  the  reverential 
affection  of  thousands  of  men  and  women  upon 
whom  she  had  never  gazed  that  had  lightened 
Doiia  Julia's  captivity,  and  had  vouchsafed  to 
her  lonely  soul  a  source  of  inspiration  without 
which  her  faith  in  heaven  might  have  lost  its 
strength.  Horrified  to  find  herself  worshipped 
as  a  goddess,  but  fearful  of  the  fate  which  might 
befall  her  should  she  make  denial  of  her  divinity, 
she  had  passed  long  months  in  silent  misery, 
theoretically  omnipotent,  but  practically  a  help 
less  captive ;  used,  for  their  own  selfish  purposes, 
by  a  few  schemers,  and  adored  at  a  distance  by 
priest-ridden  thousands  who  cherished,  in  their 
heart  of  hearts,  the  hope  that  Coyocop  would 
mitigate  the  cruel  cult  which  stained  their  tem 
ple  red. 

The  Great  Sun  came  in  state  to  visit  her  at 
times,  and,  more  often,  Manatte,  his  nephew  and 
heir-apparent,  presuming  upon  his  royal  preroga 
tives,  would  enter  her  cabin  to  feast  his  black 
183 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

'  eyes  upon  the  beauty  of  a  countenance  which  he 
was  bound  to  look  upon  as  sacred  from  the  touch 
of  human  lips.  The  tall,  dusky  youth,  whose 
handsome,  wilful  face  Dona  Julia  had  grown  to 
loathe,  had  never  dared  to  rebel  against  the  re 
straints  which  Coyocop's  divine  origin  forced 
upon  him,  but  his  restless  eyes  told  the  girl  what 
was  in  his  protesting  heart,  and  she  would  watch 
his  reluctant  steps,  as  he  stole  from  her  hut,  with 
mingled  relief  and  dread.  Well  she  knew  that 
fear  of  the  Brother  of  the  Sun  and  of  the  chief 
priest  alone  prevented  Manatte  from  defying  the 
Great  Spirit  and  making  her  his  own. 

The  afternoon  was  growing  old,  and  Dona  Julia, 
with  a  bunch  of  white  flowers  upon  her  bosom, 
relieving  the  black  monotony  of  her  sombre  garb, 
still  awaited  in  loneliness  the  coming  of  Louis 
de  Sancerre,  whose  presence  in  that  remote  cor 
ner  of  the  globe  only  the  saints  in  heaven  could 
explain.  That  Coheyogo  and  JSToco,  who  came 
to  her  daily  to  play  a  solemn  farce  in  which  she 
had  long  ago  lost  all  interest,  had  not  made  their 
accustomed  advent  to  her  cabin  filled  her  with 
increasing  alarm.  The  uproar  in  the  city  at 
noon-day,  the  mournful  outcries  of  an  agitated 
people,  had  aroused  in  Dona  Julia's  soul  a  dread 
foreboding  which  the  subsequent  silence  which 
had  fallen  upon  the  hysterical  town  had  done 
nothing  to  relieve. 

184 


A    BLACK    HEART 

Presently  the  overwrought  girl,  from  whose 
lips  the  cup  of  hope  seemed  to  have  been 
snatched  just  as  she  was  about  to  drink  deep  of 
its  grateful  draught,  fell  upon  her  knees  beside 
her  bed  and  breathed  a  fervent  prayer  to  the 
Mother  of  Christ  for  strength  in  this  hour  of 
doubt  and  discouragement.  Soothed  by  her  de 
votions,  she  arose  and,  standing  erect,  listened 
for  the  sound  of  a  footstep  which  should  precede 
an  answer  to  her  supplication ;  but  an  ominous 
silence  reigned  outside  her  hut.  Readjusting  the 
flowers  upon  her  breast,  and  smoothing  her  re 
bellious,  raven  hair  with  a  trembling  hand,  Dona 
Julia,  cold  with  a  sense  of  loneliness  which  had 
fallen  upon  her  heart,  moved  hesitatingly  toward 
the  hole  which  served  as  a  clums}^  entrance  to 
the  room.  Bending  down,  her  hungry  eyes 
eagerly  scanned  the  deserted  square,  upon  which 
the  sun  was  shining  as  if  in  search  of  its  secreted 
worshippers.  To  the  overpowering  sweetness  of 
the  spring  blossoms,  lying  in  heaps  outside  the 
doorway,  she  gave  no  heed,  as  she  sought  in 
vain  for  signs  of  life  in  a  city  upon  which  the 
blight  of  a  great  fear  had  recently  descended. 
Suddenly,  as  Dona  Julia  gazed  in  consternation 
at  this  lonely  centre  of  a  populous  town,  a  tall 
form  issued  from  the  cabin  of  the  Great  Sun. 
Drawing  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  the  man, 
glancing  in  all  directions,  as  if  to  assure  himself 
185 


WITH    SWOKD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

that  he  was  unobserved,  made  straight  toward 
the  hole  in  the  sun-baked  wall  through  which 
the  girl  was  peering.  The  white  feathers  in  his 
hair  bore  witness  to  his  royal  rank,  and  as  he 
came  into  the  full  glare  of  the  sunlight  just  be 
yond  her  cabin  Dona  Julia  saw  that  her  ap 
proaching  visitor  was  Manatte.  To  rush  forth 
into  the  square  and  arouse  the  city  by  her  cries 
was  her  first  impulse,  but  before  she  could  give 
way  to  it  the  youth  had  cut  off  her  escape. 

"Coyocop!"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  stood  erect, 
after  he  had  crawled  through  the  entrance,  driv 
ing  her  back  in  affright  toward  the  centre  of  the 
flower-bedecked  room.  "  Coyocop !" 

There  were  in  his  voice  passion,  triumph,  des 
peration  ;  an  appeal  to  the  woman  and  a  de 
fiance  to  the  gods.  The  Great  Sun  lay  dying. 
Even  the  chief  priest  would  hesitate  to  offend 
him — Manatte,  who  would  soon  be  king ! 

"  Coyocop !"  he  repeated  more  gently,  holding 
forth  to  her  a  hand,  like  a  beggar  asking  alms, 
while  his  eyes  rested  upon  the  white  flowers 
which  rose  and  fell  upon  her  throbbing  bosom. 

But,  though  her  body  trembled,  there  was  no 
flinching  in  Dona  Julia's  glance.  Hopeless,  as 
she  was,  for  she  realized  that  sacrilege  such  as 
this  could  spring  only  from  an  opportunity  in 
which  Manatte  could  find  no  peril,  her  eyes 
gazed  into  his  with  a  proud  scorn  which  left  no 
186 


A    BLACK    HEART 

need  for  words.  With  head  thrown  back,  she 
strove  to  conquer  the  brute  nature  of  the  youth 
by  the  mere  force  of  her  strong  will  and  the 
purity  of  her  virgin  soul.  But  she  knew  full 
well  that  the  silent  prayers  which  she  offered  up 
to  God  would  reach  His  throne  too  late. 

For  a  moment  they  stood  thus  confronting 
one  another ;  Purity  attired  in  black,  and  License 
enrobed  in  spotless  white.  Never  afterward 
could  Julia  de  Aquilar  sense  the  sweet,  haunting 
odor  of  magnolia  blossoms  without  a  sinking  of 
the  heart  which  made  her  breath  protest.  No 
sound  broke  the  intense  stillness  save  the  twitter 
ing  of  birds  which  wooed  the  flowers  outside  the 
hut  and  the  stifled  words  which  Manatte  strove 
to  speak.  Suddenly  he  sprang  toward  her  and 
seized  her  wrists,  while  his  bronze  face  burned 
her  cold,  white  cheeks. 

"  Coyocop,"  he  muttered,  in  a  tongue  which 
she  could  not  understand,  "  you  shall  be  mine, 
'though  every  star  the  midnight  sky  reveals 
should  send  a  god  to  save  you  from  my  love !" 

A  maiden's  despairing  cry  startled  the  silent 
town. 

"Mother  of  God,  have  mercy!  Help!  O 
Christ,  save  me !" 

A  light,  nervous  footfall  echoed  from  the 
square,  and  the  entrance  to  the  hut  was  darkened 
for  an  instant.  Rapier  in  hand,  de  Sancerre 
187 


WITH    SWORD   AND    CRUCIFIX 

sprang  into  the  centre  of  the  room.  As  Manatte, 
with  an  oath  upon  his  swollen  lips,  turned  upon 
the  intruder,  the  Frenchman  drove  his  sword 
straight  through  a  snow-white  robe  into  a  black 
heart.  Without  a  groan,  the  evil  scion  of  a 
royal  race  fell  dead  upon  the  ground. 

u  Thank  God,  I  came  in  time !"  exclaimed  de 
Sancerre,  as  he  withdrew  his  rapier  from  Ma- 
natte's  breast  and  turned  toward  Dona  Julia, 
who,  faint  and  breathless,  leaned  against  the  wall 
facing  him.  "  Dona  Julia  de  Aquilar,"  he  cried, 
tossing  his  dripping  sword  to  the  ground  and 
crossing  the  room  at  a  stride,  "  I  kiss  your  hand." 
Falling  upon  one  knee  the  courtier  pressed  his 
lips  to  the  cold,  trembling  fingers  in  his  grasp. 

"  Mother  of  Mary,  I  thank  thee  for  thy  care," 
murmured  Dona  Julia  raising  her  eyes  to  heaven 
from  the  smiling,  upturned  face  of  de  Sancerre. 

It  was  upon  a  tableau  which  might  have  sug 
gested,  to  other  eyes,  a  worldling  praying  to  a 
saint  for  pardon  for  the  murder  of  a  giant  that 
Coheyogo,  followed  by  'Noco  and  Cabanacte, 
gazed  as  he  entered  the  hut  and  attempted  to 
read  the  story  of  the  grim  picture  by  which  he 
was  confronted.  De  Sancerre,  who  had  doffed 
his  white  robes  in  the  Great  Sun's  cabin,  still 
knelt  at  the  feet  of  the  pale  and  agitated  girl. 
Near  the  centre  of  the  room  lay  the  bleeding, 
motionless  body  of  the  sacrilegious  Ban-worship- 

188 


A    BLACK    HEART 

per.  Thrown  from  a  shelf  by  the  recent  tumult 
in  the  room,  a  great  bunch  of  magnolia  blossoms 
lay  scattered  close  to  Manatte's  head,  a  floral 
halo  of  which  death  itself  still  left  him  most 
unworthy. 

Springing  to  his  feet  and  pointing  toward  the 
youth  he  had  slain,  de  Sancerre  said,  calmly,  to 
Noco : 

"  Tell  the  chief  priest  this,  that  yonder  scoun 
drel  insulted  the  spirit  of  the  sun.  For  this  he 
died.  It  was  this  sword,"  he  went  on,  picking 
up  his  rapier  and  wiping  the  blood  from  the 
blade  with  a  handful  of  flowers,  "  which  saved 
Coyocop  from  his  polluting  kiss.  I  know  not 
who  he  is,  but  were  he  ten  thousand  times  a  son 
of  suns  he  well  deserved  his  death." 

Coheyogo  stood  gazing  down  at  the  set  face 
of  Manatte  as  Noco  repeated  to  him  the  French 
man's  words. 

"  Stand  at  the  entrance  outside  the  hut,"  said 
the  chief  priest,  curtly,  to  Cabanacte,  "  and  bid 
no  one  enter  upon  pain  of  death.  Of  what  has 
happened  here,  breathe  not  a  word.  Go !" 

Crawling  through  the  entrance,  Cabanacte 
drew  himself  erect  in  the  sunlight,  a  sentry 
against  whose  behests  none  of  the  chattering 
sun-worshippers,  who  had  poured  into  the  square 
to  learn  the  meaning  of  the  cry  which  had  echoed 
from  Coyocop's  abode,  dared  protest. 
189 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

"  Say  to  the  Brother  of  the  Moon  that  what  he 
did  was  well  done,"  went  on  Coheyogo  to  Noco. 
"  If  the  draught  which  he  made  for  the  Great 
Sun  gives  life  as  surely  as  his  silver  wand  brings 
death,  then  shall  the  shadow  pass  from  our  weep 
ing  race.  Go,  then,  Noco,  to  the  temple  quick 
ly,  and  bid  four  priests  to  hasten  to  me  here. 
Answer  no  questions,  but,  as  you  go,  inform  the 
people  that  Coyocop  has  destroyed  with  flowers, 
brought  to  her  cabin  by  the  faithful,  the  evil 
spirit  which  strove  to  kill  our  king  and  bring 
destruction  upon  the  City  of  the  Sun.  Say  to 
them  further,  if  they  should  whisper  the  name 
of  yonder  chief,  that  Manatte  has  gone  to  the 
foot-hills  to  offer  prayers  for  the  Great  Sun's  life. 
Go  at  once,  for  the  day  grows  old  and  we  have 
much  to  do." 

Turning  toward  de  Sancerre,  who  had  been 
whispering  to  Dona  Julia  words  of  hope  and 
cheer,  Coheyogo  pointed  to  the  feet  of  the  dead 
sun-prince,  and  then  strode  to  the  head  of  the 
corpse.  The  Frenchman  and  the  chief  priest 
raised  the  heavy  body  and  placed  it  upon  Dofia 
Julia's  reed-plaited  bed.  With  armf uls  of  mag 
nolia  blossoms  Coheyogo  covered  Manatte's  face 
and  shoulders,  while  de  Sancerre,  comprehend 
ing  vaguely  the  scheme  which  the  chief  priest 
had  in  mind,  strewed  flowers  upon  the  trunk  of 
his  sword's  gigantic  prey. 
190 


A    BLACK    HEART 

"  May  God  defend  us !"  he  muttered.  "  I  fear 
the  keenness  of  this  crafty  priest !  He  has  an 
agile  mind.  He  turns  a  nightmare  to  a  dream 
of  spring  with  most  exquisite  skill.  And,  for 
some  reason  which  I  cannot  find,  he  takes  great 
pleasure  in  this  gay  youth's  death.  I  trust  that 
Dona  Julia  has  learned  to  read  his  mind.  I 
dread  him  either  as  an  ally  or  a  foe !" 

Before  de  Sancerre  could  find  an  opportunity 
for  holding  further  converse  with  the  Spanish 
maiden,  whose  presence  in  the  City  of  the  Sun 
had  well  nigh  restored  his  boyhood's  faith  in 
miracles,  Noco,  followed  by  four  silent  elders 
from  the  temple  of  the  sacred  fire,  had  entered 
the  hut.  A  few  moments  later  the  voiceless, 
expectant  throng  in  the  great  square  gazed  with 
awe  and  wonder  upon  a  picturesque  procession 
which  moved  with  slow  and  solemn  tread  from 
Coyocop's  abode  to  the  outskirts  of  the  town, 
beyond  which  point  a  word  from  the  temple 
priests  prevented  the  dusky  crowd  from  follow 
ing  it. 

At  the  head  of  the  cortege  walked  the  chief 
priest,  accompanied  by  de  Sancerre,  whose  drawn 
rapier  gleamed  like  a  sword  of  fire  as  the  red 
rays  of  the  setting  sun  made  a  plaything  of  the 
blade.  Behind  them  came  four  white-robed  bearers 
carrying  a  plaited  bier,  upon  which  lay  the  body 
of  a  tall  man  concealed  from  view  by  a  trem- 
191 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

bling  shroud  of  fragrant  flowers.  Following 
this  strange  funeral,  upon  which  the  sun-wor 
shippers  gazed  with  awe-stricken  eyes,  as  if  they 
looked  upon  a  marvel  wrought  by  spirits,  hob 
bled  the  aged  Noco,  mumbling  to  herself  as  she 
grinned  at  a  people  for  whose  blind  superstition 
she  had  no  respect.  Cabanacte  had  remained 
as  sentry  at  Coyocop's  abode,  to  chafe  under  the 
useless  task  consigned  to  him;  for  to  him  it 
seemed  more  fitting  that  he  should  guard  Kato- 
nah  than  stand  as  sentinel  before  a  cabin  upon 
which  high  heaven  smiled. 

When  the  cortege  had  reached  the  twilight 
shadows  outside  the  city,  the  chief  priest  gave  a 
few  simple  directions  to  the  bearers  of  the  corpse 
and,  accompanied  by  de  Sancerre  and  Noco, 
turned  back  toward  the  temple  of  the  sun. 

"  Come  with  me,  sefiora !"  cried  the  French 
man,  when  they  had  reached  the  square,  point 
ing  toward  the  Great  Sun's  cabin.  "  Say  to  the 
chief  priest,  Dona  Noco,  that  you  and  I  must 
watch  by  the  good  King's  side  to-night." 

"  It  is  well,"  answered  Coheyogo,  as  he  listened 
to  the  old  crone's  words.  "  May  the  great 
spirit  grant  you  the  skill  to  save  his  life.  'Tis 
best  for  you  that  he  should  live." 

With  this  significant  hint,  the  chief  priest 
strode  through  the  dusk  toward  the  temple  of 
the  sacred  fire. 

192 


A    BLACK    HEART 

Before  de  Sancerre  and  ISToco  had  reached  the 
cabin  in  which  the  Brother  of  the  Sun  lay  tossing 
upon  a  feverish  couch,  the  Frenchman,  whose 
mind  was  filled  with  the  vision  of  a  pale,  dark- 
eyed  woman,  garbed  in  black,  with  spring  flowers 
upon  her  breast,  recalled,  for  an  instant,  another 
face  which  seemed  to  accuse  him  in  the  twilight 
there  of  strange  forgetfulness. 

"  Wait,  senora,"  exclaimed  de  Sancerre,  seizing 
Noco  by  the  arm  at  the  very  entrance  to  the 
royal  hut.  "  Katonah !  It  is  not  well  to  leave 
her  all  alone.  Go  to  your  home  and  bring  her 
here  at  once.  This  town's  a  seething  cesspool  of 
dark-brown,  white-robed  treachery !  Peste  !  If 
harm  should  come  to  her,  I  dare  not  look  into 
the  saintly  Membre's  good  gray  eyes  again. 
Come  back  at  once.  The  Great  Sun  needs  your 
care." 

With  these  words  de  Sancerre  bent  down  to 
enter  the  royal  cabin,  while  Noco  hurried  away 
to  rescue  Katonah  from  a  lonely  night. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

IN  WHICH   DE    SANCEREE   WIELDS   HIS  SWOED  AGAIN 

THE  royal  cabin  was  the  largest  and  most  pre 
tentious  dwelling-house  in  the  City  of  the  Sun. 
Its  walls  were  made  of  mud,  sand  and  moss,  and, 
hardened  by  time,  had  become  both  serviceable 
and  sightly.  The  roof  was  formed  of  grass  and 
reeds,  united  in  a  close  embrace  which  defied  the 
most  penetrating  rain  or  hail.  Forty  feet  square, 
the  main  room  of  the  palace — to  give  it  a  grandil 
oquent  name — was  furnished  in  a  style  befitting 
the  exalted  rank  of  its  royal  occupant.  The 
Great  Sun's  throne  was  simple  in  construction, 
being  nothing  more  than  a  wooden  stool  four 
feet  in  height,  but  its  inherent  significance  was 
indicated  by  the  devices  with  which  it  had  been 
decorated  by  reverential  and  cunning  hands. 
Beneath  the  throne  was  stretched  the  rarest  of 
the  King's  household  furnishings,  a  carpet  made 
of  costly  furs,  which,  so  tradition  asserted,  had 
aroused  the  cupidity  of  a  Spaniard  in  a  former 
generation,  and  still  bore  the  stain  of  the  life- 
blood  which  he  had  vainly  paid  in  his  effort  to 
194 


DE   SANCERRE'S    SWORD    AGAIN 

rob  the  feet  of  royalty  of  their  most  valued 
luxury. 

Audience-chamber,  throne-room  and  sleeping- 
apartment,  the  main  hall  of  the  Great  Sun's 
abode,  as  de  Sancerre  entered  it,  after  despatch 
ing  old  ISToco  to  her  cabin  in  search  of  Katonah, 
was  a  sight  which  might  have  delighted  the  eye 
of  an  impressionable  painter,  but  would  have 
aroused  the  temper  of  a  conscientious  house 
keeper.  The  Great  Sun's  sudden  illness  had  be 
gotten  a  confusion  in  the  royal  menage  which 
had  transformed  his  abode  from  a  picturesque 
cabin  into  a  disordered  hospital. 

The  stricken  chieftain  lay  tossing  from  side  to 
side  upon  a  couch  covered  with  painted  and  em 
broidered  deerskins.  As  de  Sancerre  approached 
his  patient,  a  group  of  noisy  women,  the  wives 
of  the  Great  Sun,  fled  to  ward  the  shadows  at  the 
further  end  of  the  room.  Following  them,  a 
white-robed,  soft-footed  sun-worshipper,  casting 
a  glance  of  malice  at  the  Frenchman,  deserted 
the  sick  King's  side  and  stole  away  into  the  dark 
ness.  The  court  physician,  who,  through  the 
chief  priest's  influence,  had  been  succeeded  by  de 
Sancerre,  had  been  availing  himself  of  an  oppor 
tunity  to  observe  the  effects  of  the  Frenchman's 
treatment  upon  the  fever-racked  scion  of  the  sun. 

Jealous  of  his  prerogatives,  but  knowing  that 
a  cruel  death  awaited  him  should  the  Great  San 
195 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

die,  the  royal  physician  had  been  torn  by  conflict 
ing  emotions  as  he  gazed  down  upon  the  restless 
form  of  a  chieftain  whose  bodily  welfare  had 
been  his  care  for  many  years.  While  he  longed, 
for  the  sake  of  his  own  safety,  to  see  the  King 
restored  to  health,  he  harbored  a  professional 
protest  against  the  introduction  to  the  royal 
cabin  of  this  alien  moon-magic,  which,  after  all, 
seemed  to  consist  in  nothing  more  than  the  ad 
ministration  to  the  patient  of  a  few  drops  of  a 
liquid  medicine  at  more  or  less  regular  intervals. 

De  Sancerre  was  not,  in  fact,  jeopardizing  his 
life — more  than  ever  of  value  to  him  since  he 
had  solved  the  mystery  of  Coyocop — by  risking 
the  recovery  of  the  Great  Sun  upon  an  answer 
to  prayer,  nor  upon  the  chance  that  the  royal 
sun-worshipper's  strong  constitution  might  resist 
the  attack  of  a  sudden  indisposition.  The  French 
man,  upon  his  first  visit  to  the  chieftain's  cabin, 
had  quickly  reached  the  conclusion  that  the  Great 
Sun  had  fallen  a  victim  to  over-excitement  and 
over-eating.  De  Sancerre's  experience  in  courts 
and  camps  had  long  ago  familiarized  him  with 
the  effects  which  follow  a  nervous  strain  accom 
panied  by  excessive  indulgence  in  food  and 
drink. 

The  Frenchman's  observant  eye,  trained  in 
many  climes  to  harvest  large  crops  of  details, 
had  noted,  as  he  approached  the  City  of  the  Sun 
196 


DE   SANCERRE'S    SWORD    AGAIN 

through  a  semi  -  tropical  forest,  a  tree  whose 
resinous  inner  bark  vouchsafes  to  men  a  balsam 
of  great  curative  powers.  It  Avas  from  this  tree 
— the  copal — that,  obeying  de  Sancerre's  direc 
tions,  old  Noco  had  obtained  the  ingredients  for 
a  fever-quieting  draught  which  had  already  be 
gun  to  exercise  a  beneficent  influence  upon  the 
Frenchman's  royal  patient. 

As  he  now  gazed  down  questioningly  at  the 
Great  Sun,  whose  kingly  bearing  had  been  re 
placed  by  that  lack  of  dignity  which  an  acute 
fever  begets  even  where  royalty  itself  is  con 
cerned,  de  Sancerre  was  rejoiced  to  discover  that 
his  simple  febrifuge  had  already  produced  the 
effect  which  he  had  foreseen. 

"Thanks  be  to  St.  Maturin !"  he  muttered, 
contentedly,  glancing  toward  the  end  of  the 
room  to  which  the  King's  wives  and  the  discom 
fited  court  physician  had  withdrawn.  "  My  sur 
mise  was  correct.  The  Great  Sun  was  too  hos 
pitable  to  the  wandering  moon.  I  have  known 
more  enlightened  monarchs,  in  more  highly 
civilized  lands,  to  succumb  to  their  excessive  zeal 
for  good-fellowship.  Quiet,  care,  and  a  few  drops 
of  balsam  are  all  that  this  old  chief  requires  to 
make  him  a  king  again  from  top  to  toe.  Nom 
de  Dieu,  another  day  like  this  one,  and  I'll  need 
medicine  myself !  The  role  of  executioner  is  not 
so  bad,  but  a  physician— peste  !  May  the  devil 
197 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

fly  away  with  that  chief  priest !  I  fear  me  he's 
a  snake.  I  should  dare  to  hope  that  I  might 
rescue  Doiia  Julia  from  this  bloodthirsty  land  if 
I  could  but  trust  that  crafty  Coheyogo,  who's  as 
keen  as  Richelieu  and  as  slippeiy  as  Mazarin  !  I 
must  keep  a  sharp  eye  upon  his  reverence,  or  he 
will  yet  cast  his  sacred  cords  around  my  neck !" 

To  de  Sancerre,  thus  standing  in  silent  revery 
beside  the  Great  Sun's  couch,  came  Noco,  hob 
bling  from  the  entrance  with  hurried  step.  Her 
appearance  was  greeted  by  a  more  insistent 
chorus  from  the  gossiping  women  at  the  end  of 
the  room,  to  whom  the  outcome  of  their  royal 
husband's  illness  meant  either  life  or  death. 

"Katonah!"  panted  the  old  crone,  as  she 
reached  the  Frenchman's  side.  "  She  has  disap 
peared." 

"  Impossible !"  exclaimed  de  Sancerre.  "  You 
know  her  not,  senora.  She  would  not  leave  your 
cabin  without  a  word  to  me." 

"  I  am  not  blind !"  cried  N oco,  angrily.  "  My 
house  is  empty  and  the  girl  is  gone.  And  Ca- 
banacte — " 

"  What  of  him?"  asked  de  Sancerre,  impatient 
ly,  as  Noco  paused  for  breath. 

"  I  told  him  of  Katonah's  Eight,  and  he  has 
set  out  in  search  of  her." 

"  The  traitor !"  muttered  the  Frenchman,  peer 
ing  down  at  the  old  hag  who  had  brought  to  him 
198 


DE   SANCERRE'S    SWORD    AGAIN 

such  unwelcome  news.  "  Your  grandson,  Dona 
Noco,  has  abandoned  the  spirit  for  the  flesh — 
and  left  Coyocop  without  a  guard !  Surely, 
Katonah  is  safer  in  the  forest  than  is  the  spirit 
of  the  sun  in  a  city  which  pretends  to  Avorship 
her.  I  shall  chide  your  grandson,  Dona  Noco,  if 
I  ever  look  upon  his  giant  form  again.  But 
stay  you  here,  senora.  When  this  great  Son  of 
Suns  awakens  from  his  sleep  give  him  a  drink  of 
balsam — and  he'll  sleep  again.  I  go  to  Coyocop, 
and  will  return  anon." 

The  moon  had  not  yet  arisen,  and  darkness 
and  silence  combined  to  cast  a  menacing  spell 
upon  the  impressionable  City  of  the  Sun.  De 
Sancerre's  spirits  were  at  a  low  ebb  as  he  groped 
his  way  toward  Dona  Julia's  unguarded  cabin. 
The  reaction  from  a  day  of  excitement  had  come 
upon  him,  and  the  gloom  of  the  deserted  square 
did  not  tend  toward  the  restoration  of  his  former 
cheerfulness.  It  was  true  that  he  had  escaped 
death  through  a  combination  of  circumstances 
which  apparently  had  won  for  him  the  good 
will  of  the  chief  priest,  but  the  outlook  for  the 
immediate  future  was  not  promising.  De  la 
Salle  could  not  return  from  the  South  for  several 
weeks,  even  if  he  and  his  followers  escaped  the 
perils  which  might  menace  them  as  they  ap 
proached  the  mouth  of  the  great  river.  Caba- 
nacte,  to  whom  de  Sancerre  had  looked  for  the 
199 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

aid  which  might  make  his  escape  with  the  Span 
ish  girl  possible,  had  betrayed  friendship  at  the 
instigation  of  a  stronger  passion.  His  return 
from  the  forest  might  be  long  delayed.  As  he 
approached  the  hut  in  which  his  grateful  eyes 
had  rested  upon  the  pale,  sweet  face  of  Julia  de 
Aquilar,  de  Sancerre  felt  a  sinking  of  the  heart, 
a  sensation  of  utter  hopelessness  which  was  an 
unacceptable  novelty  to  the  vivacious  French 
man,  against  whose  sanguine  temperament  the 
shafts  of  despair  had  heretofore  been  powerless. 

As  he  stationed  himself,  with  rapier  in  hand, 
before  the  entrance  to  Coyocop's  sacred  cabin, 
there  was  nothing  in  his  surroundings  to  re 
light  the  flame  of  hope  in  de  Sancerre's  soul. 
Clouds  had  begun  to  darken  the  eastern  sky, 
revoking  its  promise  of  a  moonlit  night.  A 
moaning  wind,  damp  and  chill,  had  stolen  from 
its  lair  in  the  forest  to  annoy  a  fickle  city  with 
its  cold,  moist  kiss.  The  world  seemed  to  be 
made  of  sighs  and  shadows.  The  great  square 
in  front  of  him,  dark  and  deserted,  strove  to  de 
ceive  the  Frenchman  with  its  tale  of  an  aban 
doned  town.  Now  and  then  the  voice  of  some 
devout  sun- worshipper,  raised  in  hoarse  prayer, 
would  penetrate  the  walls  of  a  hut  and  bear 
witness  to  the  city's  swarming  life. 

After  a  time  there  came  upon  de  Sancerre  the 
impression  that  piercing  black  eyes  watched  him 
200 


DE   SANCERRE'S    SWORD    AGAIN 

as  he  strode  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  silent, 
shadow-haunted  hut  in  which  the  strange  chances 
of  life  had  imprisoned  the  only  woman  who  had 
ever  aroused  in  his  mocking  soul  the  precious 
passion  of  romantic  love.  He  cut  the  darkness 
with  his  eager  glance,  but  suspicion  was  not  re 
placed  by  certainty.  Nevertheless,  the  feeling 
grew  strong  within  him  that  the  night  wind 
toyed  with  white  robes  not  far  away,  and  that 
stealthy  footsteps  reached  his  ears  on  either  hand. 

By  a  strong  effort  of  will,  de  Sancerre  routed 
the  sensation  of  mingled  consternation  and  im 
potence  which  the  chill  gloom  and  the  presence 
of  prying  spies  had  begotten,  and,  drawing  close 
to  the  doorway  of  Dona  Julia's  cabin,  hummed 
an  ancient  love-ballad  born  of  the  troubadours. 
The  song  had  died  in  the  damp  embrace  of  the 
roving  wind  when  the  silence  was  broken  by  a 
voice  which  reached  de  Sancerre's  grateful  ears 
from  the  entrance  to  the  hut. 

"  Speak  not  in  Spanish  and  in  whispers  only, 
Mademoiselle  de  Aquilar !"  exclaimed  the  French 
man  in  a  low  voice,  not  changing  his  attitude 
of  a  swordsman  doing  duty  as  a  sentinel.  "  There 
are  listening  ears  upon  all  sides  of  me.  If  we 
converse  in  French,  they'll  think  we  use  the 
tongue  of  sun  or  moon." 

"  I  heard  your  voice,  monsieur.     Is  there  great 
danger  if  we  talk  a  while  ?" 
201 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

"  I  hardly  know,"  answered  de  Sancerre,  striv 
ing  again  to  read  the  secrets  of  the  night.  "But 
listen,  for  when  the  chance  may  come  to  me  to 
speak  to  you  again  I  do  not  know.  Be  ready  at 
any  moment,  at  a  word  from  me,  to  leave  this 
hut.  I'll  use  old  Noco  for  my  messenger,  when 
I  have  made  my  plans.  I  dare  not  flee  with  you 
to-night,  for,  as  I  speak,  I  see  the  ghostly  menace 
of  a  skulking  temple  priest.  There'd  be  no 
safety  for  us  beyond  the  town.  Alas,  we  must 
abide  our  time !" 

"  But,  oh,  my  heart  is  light,  monsieur,"  whis 
pered  the  girl,  from  whose  Spanish  tongue  the 
French  words  made  rich  music  as  they  fell.  "  If 
this  be  not  a  dream,  it  cannot  be  that  you  have 
come  in  vain.  One  night  I  heard  my  father's 
voice  in  Paradise.  He  spoke  to  me  of  you,  and 
when  old  Noco  told  me  that  by  the  river  there 
were  white-faced  men,  I  heard  his  voice  again — 
and  wrote  my  name  upon  the  bark.  It  is  a 
miracle,  monsieur!" 

"'A  miracle,  indeed!"  exclaimed  de  Sancerre, 
chafing  under  the  tyranny  of  his  grim  surround 
ings  and  distrustful  of  an  overpowering  inclina 
tion  to  bend  down  and  clasp  the  girl's  hand  in 
his.  "But  the  devil  and  the  sun-priests,  madem 
oiselle,  are  in  league  against  us.  Pray  to  the 
saints  that  we  may  foil  them  both !  Ma  foi,  a 
half-done  miracle  is  worse  than  none !  But  this 

202 


DE   SANCERRE'S    SWORD    AGAIN 

I  promise  you,  that  whether  you  and  I  be  play 
things  of  a  heartless  Fate,  or  the  favored  wards 
of  Mother  Mary  and  her  Son,  I'll  plot  and  scheme 
and  fight  until  I  save  you  from  captivity,  or  pay 
the  price  of  death.  And  so,  good-night !  I  dare 
not  let  you  linger  longer  where  you  are,  for  al 
ready  these  white-robed  spies  are  growing  rest 
less  at  our  talk,  and  I  hear  them  muttering  in 
the  darkness  there,  as  if  in  resentment  of  my 
converse  with  their  deity." 

A  suppressed  sob  told  de  Sancerre  how  much 
his  presence  meant  to  the  lonely  girl. 

"  Can  we  not  leave  this  awful  place  at  once  ?" 
she  moaned.  "  Forgive  me,  monsieur,  but  it  has 
been  so  long  since  I  have  seen  a  ray  of  hope  in 
this  black  hole  that  every  moment  since  I  knew 
that  you  were  here  has  seemed  a  year.  May 
Mother  Mary  guard  you  through  the  night! 
'Tis  well  I  love  my  prayers,  monsieur!  I  will 
not  sleep." 

"  Nay,  mademoiselle,  'tis  well  to  pray,  but  not 
to  lose  your  sleep.  You'll  need  the  saints,  anon — 
but  also  strength.  Sleep,  Dofia  Julia,  for  the 
love  of — God  !  And  so,  good-night !  I'll  watch 
beside  your  door  until  these  slinking  scoundrels 
have  gone  to  feed  their  sacred  fire." 

No  sound  save  the  complaining  of  the  restless 
wind  broke  the  stillness  of  the  night,  which  had 
grown  blacker  as  its  age  increased.  Suddenly 
203 


WITH    SWOKD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

de  Sancerre,  as  agile  as  a  cat,  sprang  forward, 
barely  in  time  to  escape  the  clutch  of  remorse 
less  arms.  Turning,  like  a  thunderbolt  he  drove 
his  sword  through  a  white-robed  night-prowler, 
who  died  at  his  feet  without  a  groan.  So  sud 
den  and  noiseless  had  been  the  attack  and  its 
fatal  defence  that  it  had  not  recalled  Dona  Julia 
to  the  entrance  to  the  hut.  On  the  instant,  old 
JSToco  grasped  de  Sancerre  by  the  arm,  and,  turn 
ing  in  anger,  the  Frenchman  found  himself  con 
fronted  by  Coheyogo. 

"  I've  killed  another  snake,  senora!"  exclaimed 
de  Sancerre,  grimly,  pointing  to  a  white  mass  at 
his  feet.  "  Will  you  say  to  the  chief  priest,  Dona 
Noco,  that  I  should  more  highly  prize  his  friend 
ship  if  he  kept  his  temple  priests  from  off  my 
back?" 

Coheyogo  muttered  a  few  words  to  the  aged 
interpreter. 

"  The  man  you've  slain  has  been  rebellious  and 
deserves  his  fate.  He  disobeyed  a  strict  com 
mand,"  said  JSToco,  repeating  the  chief  priest's 
curt  comment.  "  He'll  place  a  guard  of  trusty 
priests  before  the  door  of  Coyocop,  that  you  and 
I  may  seek  the  Great  Sun's  side." 

"  How  kind   he   is !"   muttered  de   Sancerre, 

petulantly.    "  A  pretty  plight  this  is  for  a  Count 

of    Languedoc !    I'm   tired  of   this  Coheyogo's 

domineering  ways !    But  still,  I  dare  not  cross 

204 


DE   SANCERRE'S    SWORD    AGAIN 

him  now.  Come,  seiiora,"  he  exclaimed  in  Span 
ish,  turning  toward  the  King's  cabin  and  groping 
his  way  through  the  black  night.  "  I  trust  my 
sword  will  find  no  more  to  do  to-night !  It  has 
had  a  busy  day !" 


CHAPTER  XXII 

IN  WHICH   THE   CITY   OF   THE    SUN   ENJOYS   A    FETE 

THE  moon  of  strawberries  had  been  succeeded 
by  the  moon  of  old  corn,  and  there  was  joy  in 
the  land  of  the  sun- worshippers.  In  other  words, 
the  month  of  April  had  gone  by  and  the  month 
of  May  had  found  the  Great  Sun's  grateful  sub 
jects  making  ready  to  celebrate  his  restoration 
to  health  by  national  games  and  a  thanksgiving 
feast. 

The  laggard  weeks  had  told  many  a  flattering 
tale  of  hope  to  Count  Louis  de  Sancerre,  but  at 
the  end  of  a  month's  sojourn  in  the  City  of  the 
Sun  he  still  found  himself,  in  all  essential  par 
ticulars,  a  helpless  stranger  in  a  fickle  and  jealous 
land,  honored  by  the  Great  Sun  and  the  chief 
priest,  and  admired  by  the  people,  but  closely 
watched  by  sharp  black  eyes,  from  which  flashed 
gleams  of  malice  and  suspicion.  Impatient  and 
impetuous  though  he  was,  the  Frenchman  dared 
not  force  the  issue  to  a  crisis.  Easy  of  accom 
plishment  as  the  kidnapping  of  Coyocop  seemed 
206 


THE    CITY    OF    THE    SUN'S    FETE 

to  be,  de  Sancerre  realized  that  he  would  rush 
to  certain  death  if  he  took  a  false  step  and  at 
tempted  a  rescue  hampered  by  his  ignorance  of 
the  surrounding  country  and  of  the  movements 
of  Sieur  de  la  Salle.  Day  succeeded  day  and  no 
word  came  from  the  river  to  the  pale  and  haggard 
Frenchman,  whose  only  joy  in  life  during  those 
dreary  weeks  sprang  from  the  voice  of  Julia  de 
Aquilar,  which  reached  his  grateful  ears  now  and 
then  as  he  prowled  around  her  cabin  late  at  night. 
Even  this  source  of  delight  he  was  obliged  to 
forego  after  a  time,  receiving  from  the  chief 
priest  a  broad  hint  regarding  the  dangers  which 
menaced  a  stranger  in  the  town  after  dark,  and 
learning  from  Noco  that  Cohey ogo  had  discovered 
in  the  temple  the  existence  of  a  fanatical  faction 
among  the  sun-priests  which  had  sworn  to  over 
come  de  Sancerre's  moon -magic  by  physical 
force. 

But  it  was  Cabariacte's  failure  to  return  from 
his  quest  of  Katonah  that  had  wound  the  strong 
est  cord  around  the  Frenchman's  hands.  Could 
he  have  had  the  giant's  assistance  at  this  crisis, 
de  Sancerre  felt  confident  that  any  one  of  a  num 
ber  of  schemes  which  he  had  been  obliged  to  re 
ject  for  lack  of  an  ally  could  have  been  forced 
to  the  goal  of  success.  But  Cabanacte  had  dis 
appeared,  had  made  no  further  sign,  and  old 
Noco,  to  whom  her  grandson  was  as  an  open 
207 


WITH    SWORD    AND   CRUCIFIX 

book,  had  said  sadly  to  de  Sancerre  that  the 
youth  would  not  return. 

The  restless  and  wellnigh  discouraged  French 
man  had,  through  his  success  as  a  physician,  won 
the  enthusiastic  gratitude  of  the  Great  Sun.  who 
had  insisted  upon  making  his  Brother  of  the 
Moon  the  honored  guest  of  the  royal  cabin,  with 
in  which  de  Sancerre  was  compelled,  much  against 
his  will,  to  spend  the  major  portion  of  the  time, 
talking  to  the  convalescent  king  by  the  aid  of 
E~oco's  nimble  tongue. 

It  was  the  dawn  of  a  cloudless  day  near  the 
middle  of  the  moon  of  old  corn  when  de  San 
cerre,  opening  his  eyes  after  a  night  of  dreamless, 
restful  sleep,  enjoyed,  for  a  moment,  that  sensa 
tion  of  physical  well-being  which  suggests  the 
possibility  that  nature  harbors  no  enmity  to  man. 
Outside  the  royal  cabin  the  morning  vibrated 
with  the  melody  of  birds  and  the  distant  rumors 
of  a  forest  springing  gladly  into  life.  There  was 
movement  and  bustle  inside  the  hut,  and  de  San 
cerre  turned  lazily  upon  his  gayly -bedecked  couch 
to  watch  the  Great  Sun  as  he  paid  homage  to  his 
risen  god.  With  a  spotless  white  robe  flowing 
from  his  royal  shoulders,  the  King,  still  feeble 
from  his  recent  illness,  stood  in  the  centre  of  the 
room  gravely  lighting  his  calumet  from  a  live 
ember  which  one  of  his  wives  held  out  to 
him.  Then  striding  toward  the  dawn-beset  exit 
208 


THE    CITY    OF    THE    SUN'S    FETE 

to  the  cabin,  which  led  straight  to  the  rising 
sun,  the  convalescent  chief  blew  three  puffs  of 
tobacco-smoke  toward  the  deified  orb  of  day. 

" Pardieu"  muttered  de  Sancerre,  "if  they 
would  but  sacrifice  more  tobacco  and  less  blood 
to  their  shining  god,  this  city  would  not  be  so  re 
pulsive  to  a  man  of  tender  heart."  The  French 
man  had  thrown  his  slim  legs  over  the  side  of 
the  plaited  bed  and  sat  gazing  at  the  Sun-Chief 
with  a  quizzical  smile  upon  his  clean-cut,  thin  and 
colorless  face.  Suddenly  upon  the  air  of  morn 
ing  arose  the  shouts  of  a  joyful  multitude  ap 
proaching  the  Great  Sun's  cabin.  As  if  born  of 
the  dawn,  the  noisy  throng  poured  into  the 
square,  carrying  to  the  palace  of  their  king  offer 
ings  of  fruit,  flowers,  vegetables,  meats  and  fish. 
Into  the  cabin  crowded  the  smiling,  chattering 
sun-worshippers,  their  white  teeth  gleaming  and 
their  black  eyes  flashing  fire  as  they  piled  their 
gifts  around  the  Great  Sun's  hand-painted  throne, 
interfering  with  de  Sancerre's  toilet  but  treating 
him  with  the  respect  due  to  a  son  of  the  full 
moon,  in  whose  magic  they  had  reason  to  rejoice. 
A  noisy,  picturesque,  light-hearted  crowd,  de 
lighting  in  the  escape  of  their  king  from  death, 
and  in  the  postponement  of  the  general  slaughter 
of  men,  women,  and  children  which  would  have 
followed  his  demise,  they  impressed  the  French 
man  as  overgrown,  frolicsome,  unreliable  children, 
o  209 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

beneath  whose  gayety  lurked  the  capacity  for 
blood}7  mischief. 

Half-dressed  and  somewhat  weary  of  the  glad 
uproar,  de  Sancerre,  having  withdrawn  to  a  dis 
tant  corner  of  the  hut,  stood  watching  a  cere 
mony  which  was  destined  to  replenish  the  royal 
larder,  when  he  felt  a  tug  at  his  arm,  and,  looking 
down,  met  the  keen  eyes  of  Noco. 

"  'Tis  from  Coyocop,"  she  muttered,  slipping 
into  his  hand  a  piece  of  mulberry  bark.  The 
corner  in  which  he  stood  was  not  well-lighted, 
but  de  Sancerre  was  able,  at  length,  to  decipher 
the  scrawl  made  by  Julia  de  Aquilar.  Her  words 
were  few : 

"Eat  no  fish  at  to-day's  banquet,"  ran  the  mes 
sage.  De  Sancerre  glanced  down  at  the  old  hag 
questioningly,  but  there  was  nothing  in  her  face 
to  suggest  that  she  understood  the  warning  which 
had  been  scratched  upon  the  bark.  The  moment 
seemed  to  be  ripe  for  putting  into  operation  a 
plan  upon  which  de  Sancerre's  mind  had  been  at 
work  for  several  days. 

"  Tell  me,  seiiora,"  he  said,  observing  with 
satisfaction  that  no  prying  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
them  at  that  moment,  "  would  it  please  you  to 
find  your  grandson,  Cabanacte,  and  lure  him 
from  the  forest  to  his  home  ?" 

There  was  a  gleam  in  her  small,  black  e}res  as 
they  met  his  which  assured  de  Sancerre  that  he 
210 


THE    CITY    OF    THE    SUN'S    FETE 

had  pressed  a  finger  upon  the  beldame's  dearest 
wish. 

"  It  cannot  be  done,"  she  croaked,  turning  her 
back  to  him  as  if  about  to  mingle  with  the  laugh 
ing  throng.  De  Sancerre  seized  her  by  the  arm. 

"  Listen,  Noco,"  he  urged,  bending  down  to 
whisper  eager  Spanish  into  her  old  ears.  "  Coyo- 
cop  and  I,  going  to  the  forest  side  by  side,  could 
find  Cabanacte  and  the  maiden  from  the  north. 
Tell  this  to  Coyocop,  that  I  will  come  to  her 
when  the  banquet  nearsits  end  at  dark.  I  leave 
the  rest  to  you,  for  you  must  lead  us  from  the 
city  to  the  woods.  The  moon  of  old  corn  will 
give  us  light  to-night  to  find  your  grandson  in 
the  forest  glades  or  where  the  river  floweth  tow 
ard  the  sea.  Will  you  take  my  word  to  her?" 

"Si,  senor"  muttered  Noco,  gazing  up  at  de 
Sancerre  with  eyes  which  strove  to  read  his  very 
soul.  "  But  if  we  fail — if  Coyocop  is  missed — it 
will  be  death  for  you  and  me." 

"We  cannot  fail,  senora,  for  the  full  moon  is 
my  god !  We'll  find  your  Cabanacte  ere  the 
night  is  old  —  and  none  will  ever  know.  And 
now,  begone !  Between  the  setting  of  the  sun 
and  the  rising  of  the  moon  I'll  come  to  you  and 
Coyocop.  Be  true  to  me,  senora,  and  by  the 
magic  of  my  silver  wand  you'll  look  upon  your 
grandson's  face  to-night." 

In  another  moment  Noco,  eluding  the  Great 
211 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

Sun's  glance  as  she  stole  between  the  tall  sun- 
worshippers,  had  crept  from  the  cabin  into  the 
rosy  light  of  day. 

The  hours  which  followed  her  departure  passed 
like  long  days  to  de  Sancerre.  He  watched  the 
Great  Sun's  wives  as  they  became  surfeited  with 
the  petty  tyranny  which  they  exercised  at  the 
expense  of  a  throng  of  lesser  women,  upon  whom 
rested  the  drudgery  necessitated  by  the  approach 
ing  feast.  Cares  of  state — an  inventory  of  the 
tribute  paid  to  his  divine  right  —  occupied  the 
attention  of  the  King  until  noon  had  long  been 
passed  and  left  de  Sancerre  to  his  own  devices. 
Seated  at  the  entrance  to  the  cabin,  the  French 
man  could  observe  what  was  passing  in  the  sunny 
square  outside,  while  he  still  kept  an  eye  upon 
the  Great  Sun  and  his  busy  household.  Half- 
naked  boys  and  girls,  gay  with  garlands  of 
flowers,  were  arranging  long  lines  of  wooden 
benches  in  front  of  the  royal  dwelling  under  the 
direction  of  a  master  of  ceremonies  who  had 
escaped  death  with  his  king. 

The  bench  upon  which  the  Great  Sun,  the  chief 
priest,  and  de  Sancerre,  the  nation's  guest,  were 
to  sit  stood  just  in  front  of  the  King's  cabin,  and 
had  been  covered  with  painted  skins  and  sur 
rounded  by  a  carpet  of  magnolia  blossoms. 

As  the  hour  for  the  banquet  approached  the 
nobly-born  sun- worshippers  gathered  in  groups 

212 


THE    CITY    OF    THE    SUN'S    FETE 

at  the  further  end  of  the  square,  awaiting  a  sig 
nal  from  royalty  to  seat  themselves  upon  the 
benches,  hot  by  this  time  from  the  glare  of  a 
cloudless  day.  Gayety,  suppressed  but  impa 
tient,  reigned  in  the  City  of  the  Sun.  Black 
eyes  flashed  above  smiling  lips,  and  now  and 
then  a  chorus  of  happy  voices  would  raise  a 
chant  in  praise  of  a  deity  who  had  blessed  the 
earth  with  fecund  warmth.  Even  the  stealthy, 
silent,  keen-eyed  temple  priests  failed  to  cast  a 
damper  upon  the  joyous  children  of  the  sun  as 
they  mingled  with  the  throng  or  lurked  in  the 
shadow  of  their  skull-crowned  palisade. 

The  banquet  had  been  under  way  for  more 
than  an  hour  before  de  Sancerre,  seated  between 
the  Great  Sun  and  Coheyogo,  had  been  able  to 
revive  the  hope  which  had  sprung  up  in  his  breast 
earlier  in  the  day.  His  environment,  as  it  met 
his  eyes  at  the  outset  of  the  feast,  seemed  to  pre 
clude  all  possibility  of  a  successful  issue  to  the 
plan  which  he  had  impulsively  put  into  operation. 
A  group  of  plebeians,  watching  the  nobility  as  it 
made  merry — apparently  at  the  King's  expense, 
but,  in  reality,  at  theirs — stood  directly  in  front 
of  Coyocop's  abode  and  were  laughingly  driving 
de  Sancerre's  heart  into  his  pointed  shoes.  Would 
the  gaping  throng  disperse  as  the  sun  sank  low 
in  the  sky,  and  leave  to  the  Frenchman  one 
chance  in  a  thousand  for  the  triumph  of  his  dar- 
213 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

ing  scheme?  The  hours,  as  they  passed,  left  de 
Sancerre  less  and  less  self-confident,  while  they 
increased  the  joyous  hilarity  of  the  feasters 
among  whom  he  sat.  The  mud-made  walls  of 
the  houses  on  either  side  of  him  had  begun  to 
throw  long  shadows  across  the  square  before  de 
Sancerre  was  able  to  cull  from  his  surroundings 
a  bud  of  hope.  It  sprang  from  the  tongue  of 
Noco,  who,  as  she  passed  behind  his  back,  mut 
tered  in  Spanish : 

"I  will  touch  your  arm  at  dark.  Then  fol 
low  me." 

At  that  moment  the  women  serving  the  royal 
table  placed  before  the  Great  Sun  and  his  guests 
of  honor  bits  of  bark  upon  which  rested  fish  still 
hissing  from  the  heat  of  a  wood-fire.  De  San 
cerre,  who  had  turned  to  nod  to  Noco,  caught  a 
gleam  of  excitement  in  the  black  eyes  of  the 
serving- woman  who  had  stretched  her  scrawny, 
brown  arms  between  him  and  the  chief  priest. 
As  he  faced  the  feast  again  the  fish  in  front  of 
him  recalled  the  written  warning  which,  he  had 
received  that  morning  from  Julia  de  Aquilar. 

"  Touch  no  fish  at  to-day's  banquet,"  repeated 
de  Sancerre  to  himself.  "'T\vas  good  advice,  I 
think.  I'll  let  this  schemer,  Cohevogo,  eat  my 
dish."  Acting  upon  the  impulse  of  the  moment, 
the  Frenchman  touched  the  chief  priest  upon  the 
arm,  and,  as  Coheyogo's  black  eyes  met  his,  he 
214 


THE    CITY    OF    THE    SUN'S    FETE 

made  a  gesture  toward  the  retreating  form  of 
2sToco,  as  if  he  invoked  the  aid  of  the  temple  to 
recall  the  interpreter  to  his  side.  The  spon 
taneity  of  de  Sancerre's  action  had  its  effect 
upon  the  sun-priest,  for  he  turned  instantly  and 
called  aloud  to  the  double-tongued  and  two-faced 
hag.  With  a  rapidity  and  deftness  worthy  of  a 
prestidigitateur,  de  Sancerre  transposed  the  frag 
ments  of  fish -laden  bark  upon  the  bench,  and, 
as  Coheyogo  resumed  his  former  attitude,  he  was 
confronted,  unknowingly,  with  a  dish  with  which 
a  fanatical  but  disobedient  priest,  hating  moon- 
magic,  had  tampered. 

There  is  but  short  shrift  given  to  the  day  when 
the  sun  deserts  it  in  southern  climes.  Twilight 
had  already  begun  to  cast  a  gloom  upon  the 
feast,  against  which  the  forced  gayety  begotten 
of  cinnamon -flavored  wine  could  not  prevail, 
when  de  Sancerre  again  felt  old  Noco's  touch 
upon  his  arm.  Before  he  turned  to  her  the 
Frenchman,  whose  heart  was  beating  wildly  be 
neath  his  rusty  velvets,  cast  a  glance  at  the  Great 
Sun.  To  his  great  satisfaction  he  discovered  that 
his  royal  patient  had  wholly  disregarded  the 
warning  vouchsafed  by  his  recent  illness  and 
had  been  indulging  in  the  pleasures  of  the  table 
to  an  extent  that  had  placed  again  in  jeopardy 
the  lives  of  those  of  his  subjects  who  were 
doomed  to  accompany  him  in  state  to  the  spirit- 
215 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

land.  But  it  was  the  condition  of  Coheyogo  at 
that  moment  which  gave  to  de  Sancerre  the 
greater  cause  for  joy.  The  chief  priest  sat 
'blinking  down  at  a  half -eaten  fish,  as  if  he 
struggled  vainly  to  read  the  grim  secret  which 
it  held.  Now  and  then  his  head  would  drop 
forward  as  if  he  had  been  overcome  by  sleep. 
Then,  by  an  effort  of  will,  he  would  straighten 
his  spine  and  attempt  to  collect  his  thoughts. 
The  Frenchman  watched  him  searchingly  for  a 
moment,  and  observed  with  delight  that  the 
struggle  which  the  chief  priest  was  making 
against  a  slothful  but  resistless  foe  would  end 
in  full  defeat. 

"  Mafoi"  muttered  de  Sancerre,  as  he  crawled 
softly  from  between  the  intoxicated  State  and 
the  bedrugged  Church  into  the  shadow  into  which 
Noco  had  stolen,  "  had  I  not  learned  a  trick  or 
two  in  camps,  'tis  I  who  would  be  nodding,  not 
Coheyogo.  I  would  I  could  remain  to  see  the 
outcome  of  this  contest  between  a  poison  and  a 
snake !" 

JSToco  had  grasped  him  by  the  arm,  and  in 
another  instant  de  Sancerre  found  himself  steal 
ing  toward  Dona  Julia's  cabin  through  the  dark 
est  corner  of  the  crowded  square.  Either  the 
saints  or  the  moon -god,  or  senseless  chance, 
granted  the  Frenchman  favors  at  that  crucial 
hour;  for,  as  he  approached  Coyocop's  sacred 
216 


THE    CITY    OF    THE    SUN'S    FETE 

abode,  wellnigh  hidden  from  sight  beneath  hil 
locks  of  cut  flowers,  a  group  of  enthusiasts  at 
the  feast,  still  unconquered  by  the  fermented 
juice  of  the  cassia-berry,  had  mounted  the  food- 
stained  benches  and  raised  a  maudlin,  monoto 
nous  chant,  in  which  the  onlooking  plebeians  ac 
companied  them.  At  the  same  moment  a  crowd 
of  boys  and  girls  at  the  further  end  of  the  square 
had  begun  a  weird,  ungraceful,  unseemly  dance,  in 
which,  as  time  passed,  men  and  women  joined  with 
shouts  of  wild  laughter.  Presently  the  kettle 
drum  added  its  barbaric  clamor  to  the  din  which 
fretted  the  darkness  as  it  crept  across  the  dis 
ordered  square.  Even  the  sun-priests,  heated  by 
the  epidemic  of  gayety  which  had  seized  the 
town,  had  left  their  sacred  fire  to  the  care  of  a 
chosen  few,  and  were  now  mingling  with  the 
shouting,  dancing,  delirious  multitude  upon  a 
pretext  of  good-fellowship,  which  was  not  too 
well  received. 

"  Wait  here,  senor,"  whispered  Noco,  in  a  gut 
tural  voice  which  shook  with  excitement,  push 
ing  de  Sancerre  against  the  wall  at  the  rear  of 
Dona  Julia's  hut.  "  Don't  stir  until  I  return. 
I  fear  some  priest  may  still  be  watching  me." 

The  old  crone  disappeared  around  the  corner 

of  the  cabin,  and  de  Sancerre  stood,  trying  to 

swallow  his  insistent  heart,  as  he  listened  to  the 

uproar  in  the  square  and,  presently,  to  the  voice 

217 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

of  Julia  de  Aquilar  whispering  to  Noco  almost 
at  his  very  side. 

"  Come,"  hissed  Noco,  at  his  shoulder,  seizing 
him  by  the  wrist,  and  dragging  Dona  Julia 
toward  the  black  shelter  of  the  forest  by  the 
other  hand.  "No  word!  No  rest!  There  will 
be  no  safety  for  us  until  we  reach  the  trees." 

Followed  through  the  gloom  by  the  harsh  dis 
cord  of  a  mad  town's  revelry,  Dona  Julia  de 
Aquilar,  of  Seville,  and  Count  Louis  de  Sancerre, 
of  Languedoc,  linked  together  by  a  wrinkled  bel 
dame,  who  looked  at  that  moment  like  a  grin 
ning  witch  escaping  to  the  wilds  with  the  help 
less  victims  of  her  spite,  hurried,  with  hearts 
growing  lighter  with  every  step,  toward  a  path 
less  wilderness,  in  which  a  thousand  lurking  per 
ils  would  menace  them  at  every  turn. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

IN   WHICH   DE    SANCERRE    UNDERGOES    MANY  VARIED 
EMOTIONS 

THE  full  moon  of  May,  the  moon  of  old  corn, 
shone  down  upon  a  virgin  forest  bounding  with 
the  high  pulse  of  a  ripe  spring-time.  Its  white 
splendor  tiptoed  along  the  outskirts  of  impene 
trable  thickets,  or  danced  gayly  down  majestic 
glades,  patrolled  by  oak  and  hickory,  sassafras, 
and  poplar  trees.  Presently,  shunning  a  mena 
cing  morass,  the  silvery  outriders  of  the  moon's 
array  would  file  along  a  narrow  bayou  or  charge 
en  masse  across  the  broad  surface  of  a  trembling 
lake.  And  while  the  triumphant  moonlight  took 
possession  of  a  splendid  province,  the  thousand 
voices  of  the  forest  murmured  at  midnight  a 
welcome  to  the  conqueror. 

Panting  for  breath,  and  worn  with  the  fric 
tion  of  their  race  for  freedom  through  swamps 
and  woods,  de  Sancerre  and  his  companions, 
after  long  hours  of  hurried  flight,  paused  to 
recover  their  strength,  far  to  the  southward  of 
the  City  of  the  Sun.  The  marvellous  endurance 
219 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

of  Julia  de  Aquilar,  whose  urgency  had  granted 
to  the  enraged  Noco  no  chance  to  protest  against 
the  fervor  of  their  mad  career,  had  put  even  the 
wiry,  hardened  frame  of  the  lithe  Frenchman 
to  a  stubborn  test.  Hand  in  hand  de  Sancerre 
and  the  Spanish  girl  had  sped  onward,  followed 
by  the  grumbling  crone,  now  breaking  their  way 
through  vindictive  underbrush,  anon  wetting  their 
feet  in  marshy  vales,  again  making  progress  be 
neath  stately  trees,  avoiding  the  deep  gloom  of 
threatening  recesses  and  following  a  moon-track, 
like  hounds  upon  a  scent.  Behind  them  sat  cer 
tain  death  ;  beyond  them,  a  joyful  promise  lured 
them  deeper  and  ever  deeper  into  the  primeval 
wilds. 

Tottering  and  breathless,  old  Noco  reached 
the  crest  of  the  tree-crowned  hillock  upon  which 
Dona  Julia  and  de  Sancerre,  gasping,  speechless, 
but  strong  with  renewed  hope,  stood  awaiting 
her  coming.  Throwing  her  old  bones  upon  the 
damp  grass,  Noco  lay  moaning  for  a  time  in  se 
nile  misery.  Youth,  under  the  spurs  of  fear  and 
hope,  had  led  old  age  a  cruel  race.  Noco  had 
come  into  the  forest  to  solve  by  moon -magic 
the  secret  of  her  grandson's  flight,  and,  lo !  the 
wizard  upon  whom  she  relied  had  become  a  will- 
o'-the-wisp,  in  tattered  velvets,  using  his  diabol 
ical  power  to  kidnap  Coyocop,  the  spirit  of  the  sun. 

"  Lean  against  the  tree-trunk,  senora,"  said  de 
220 


DE   SANCERRE'S    VARIED   EMOTIONS 

Sancerre  to  Dona  Julia,  his  voice  tripping  over 
his  breath  as  he  spoke.  "  I  fear  old  Noco  has 
found  our  pace  too  hot.  But,  even  now,  I  dare 
not  rest.  "We  must  go  on !'? 

Descending  the  hillock  to  the  treacherous  ooze 
which  mirrored  the  moon  in  a  multitude  of  pools, 
the  Frenchman  filled  his  bedraggled  bonnet  with 
cold  water  and  returned  quickly  to  Noco's  side. 
Bending  down,  he  forced  the  panting  beldame  to 
drink  deep  of  the  refreshing  draught.  Then  he 
poured  a  cold  stream  upon  her  drawn,  dusky  face 
and  through  the  white  hair  above  her  wrinkled 
brow.  The  old  hag's  beady  eyes  had  watched 
his  every  movement.  Had  he  not  cast  a  spell 
upon  the  moon-kissed  water  with  which  he  laved 
her  head?  Surely  this  revival  of  her  strength, 
which  raised  her  on  the  instant  to  her  feet,  was 
magical.  Cruel  though  he  might  have  been  to 
her,  the  Brother  of  the  Moon  was  making  full 
reparation  with  his  witchery  for  the  suffering 
which  she  had  undergone.  Old  ISToco  was  more 
superstitious  at  midnight  than  at  dawn,  more  a 
savage  in  the  forest  than  in  her  city  hut.  The 
mocking  gleam  which  her  eyes  had  known  so 
well  the  moonlight  could  not  find,  as  she  stood 
facing  de  Sancerre,  gazing  up  at  him  with  a 
question  in  her  glance. 

"Cabanactef  she  exclaimed,  still  short  of 
breath. 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

"  We  will  seek  him  by  the  river,"  answered 
de  Sancerre,  pointing  to  a  break  in  the  forest 
which  opened  toward  the  east,  as  he  drew  the 
woman  toward  the  hollow  gum-tree  against 
which  the  Spanish  girl  was  seated,  silently  pour 
ing  out  her  soul  in  gratitude  to  Mother  Mary 
and  the  saints. 

"  But  there  is  no  time,"  complained  the  old 
woman.  "  They  will  miss  Coyocop,  and  if  they 
find  us  in  the  woods — ugh!"  The  grunt  of 
horror  to  which  Noco  gave  vent  bore  witness  to 
how  much  cruelty  her  aged  eyes  had  gazed  upon. 

"  Listen,  Dona  Noco,"  said  de  Sancerre  sternly, 
as  he  extended  his  hand  to  Julia  de  Aquilar  and, 
indulging  in  a  courtly  flourish  wholly  out  of  keep 
ing  with  his  environment,  drew  her  to  her  feet, 
"we  have  set  out  to  find  Katonah  and  your 
grandson.  Be  true  to  Cabanacte  and  put  your 
trust  in  Coyocop.  Listen,  sefiora,"  and  here 
de  Sancerre  bent  down  and  addressed  the  old 
crone  with  impressive  emphasis,  aas  we  hurry 
on,  ponder  the  words  I  speak;  the  City  of  the 
Sun  is  unworthy  of  the  spirit  sent  from  God. 
It  is  accursed.  Its  temple  runs  with  blood,  and 
its  vile  priests  have  sealed  the  city's  doom.  Come ; 
'twas  your  grandson  who  found  Coyocop.  'Tis 
Coyocop  who  shall  now  find  Cabanacte." 

Onward  through  the  moonlit  forest  the  trio 
kept  their  course,  tending  always  toward  a  noble 
222 


DE   SANCERRE'S    VARIED   EMOTIONS 

river  that  might  bear  them,  could  they  build  a 
raft,  to  the  vagrant  camp  of  de  la  Salle,  pitched 
somewhere  farther  south.  Wasting  no  breath  in 
futile  words,  de  Sancerre  maintained  a  telling 
pace  which  carried  them  every  moment  further 
from  a  city  of  murder  toward  a  stream  where 
hunger  menaced  them. 

For  two  long,  heavy  hours  they  struggled  east 
ward  across  the  treacherous  margin  of  a  river 
grown  erratic  from  its  weary  longing  for  the  sea. 
Now  and  then  de  Sancerre  would  turn  to  refresh 
his  straining  eyes  with  a  vision  of  beauty,  done 
in  black  and  white  against  the  moonlight,  and, 
for  all  time,  upon  his  heart.  A  word  of  en 
couragement  would  escape  from  his  dry  lips  at 
intervals,  and  a  smile  of  hope  and  gratitude 
would  reward  him  for  his  prodigality  of  breath. 

The  want  and  hardship  which  confronted  them, 
the  chances  of  capture  from  savage  tribes,  of 
death  from  starvation,  or  swamp-begotten  fever, 
although  clear  to  de  Sancerre's  mind,  could  not, 
in  that  glad  hour,  cast  a  shadow  upon  his  bwrv- 
ant  spirits.  "  A  half-done  miracle  is  worse  than 
none,"  he  had  said  to  Dofia  Julia.  It  gave  him 
renewed  confidence  in  the  future  to  feel  that 
upon  his  own  courage,  pertinacity,  and  foresight 
would  depend  the  happy  outcome  of  a  strange 
adventure  which  chance,  at  the  outset,  had  made 
possible.  It  was  pleasant  to  de  Sancerre  to 
223 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

reflect  that  he  could  now  relieve  the  saints  of 
all  responsibility  for  the  issue  of  events. 

Nevertheless,  the  Frenchman  uttered  a  word 
of  gratitude  to  St.  Maturin,  who  watches  over 
fools,  when,  about  two  hours  after  midnight,  he 
and  his  companions  shook  the  forest  from  their 
weary  shoulders  and  stood  upon  the  curving 
shore  of  the  River  Colbert — known  to  later  times 
as  the  Mississippi.  De  Sancerre's  quick  eye  saw 
at  once  that  at  this  point  Sieur  de  la  Salle  had, 
weeks  before,  made  his  camp  for  a  night.  By  a 
short  cut  through  the  woods,  the  Frenchman  had 
reached  a  point  upon  the  river  to  gain  which 
the  canoes  of  the  great  explorer  had  labored  for 
a  day  upon  the  winding  stream.  That  the  litter 
left  upon  the  bank  had  not  been  abandoned  by  a 
party  of  roving  Indians  was  proven  beyond  per- 
adventure  to  de  Sancerre  by  a  discovery  which 
electrified  his  pulse  and  renewed  his  admiration 
for  the  saint  whom  he  had  just  invoked.  As  he 
hurried  down  the  slope  which  fell  gently  from 
the  forest  to  the  stream,  anxious  to  enter  the  de 
serted  huts,  made  of  reeds  and  leafy  branches  by 
expert  hands  to  serve  as  shelter  for  a  single  night, 
de  Sancerre's  torn  shoes  struck  against  an  object 
which  forced  an  exclamation  of  astonishment 
and  delight  from  his  ready  tongue. 

Gleaming  in  the  moonlight  at  his  feet,  the 
long  barrel  of  a  flintlock  musket  pointed  straight 
224 


DE   SANCERRE'S    VARIED   EMOTIONS 

at  a  powder-horn  and  a  bag  of  bullets,  as  if  the 
weapon,  lacking  nourishment,  prayed  to  be  re 
charged.  Bending  down,  de  Sancerre  raised  the 
clumsy  gun  and  examined  its  mechanism  with 
the  eagerness  of  a  shipwrecked  mariner  toward 
whose  raft  the  sea  had  tossed  a  chest  which 
might,  when  opened,  gladden  his  eyes  with  food. 

Dona  Julia  and  Noco  stood  behind  the  French 
man  watching  his  movements  with  eyes  in  which 
curiosity  had  conquered  the  heaviness  of  dire 
fatigue. 

"  This,  Mademoiselle  de  Aquilar,"  explained 
de  Sancerre,  balancing  the  heavy  musket  in  his 
hand,  "  is  the  fusil  ordinaire,  or  snaphance  gun. 
I  have  heard  young  hotspurs  in  the  low  countries 
— who  knew  little  of  the  rapier's  niceties — assert 
that,  at  close  quarters,  its  butt-end  is  more  deadly 
than  a  sword.  Of  its  merits  in  a  melee  I  am  not 
ripe  to  speak,  but  I  learned,  while  yet  I  lingered 
with  Count  Frontenac,  to  drive  a  bullet  through 
a  distant  tree.  The  weapon  has  its  use!  You 
may  thank  the  saints,  mademoiselle,  for  this  gun 
and  powder-horn.  'Twill  serve  my  turn  if  my 
captain's  careless  redmen  have  left  no  eatables 
in  yonder  huts." 

"Ah,  well  I   knew,  monsieur,  you  had   not 

come  to  me  in  vain !"  exclaimed  Dona  Julia,  a 

glad  smile  gleaming  in  her  eloquent  eyes,  beneath 

which  rested  the  dark  shadows  of  physical  ex- 

p  225 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

haustion.  "The  saints  have  led  your  steps  to 
where  the  musket  lay !" 

"Mais,  oid!  But  tell  not  Noco  this.  Her 
ears  must  harken  to  another  tale." 

Turning  to  gaze  down  at  the  silent  beldame, 
the  fiery  brightness  of  whose  busy  eyes  the 
strain  of  a  forced  march  at  midnight  had  not 
dimmed,  'though  her  face  twitched  with  fatigue 
and  her  scrawny  hands  shook  in  the  moonlight, 
de  Sancerre  said : 

"  The  Brother  of  the  Moon  is  glad,  seiiora,  for 
my  god  has  put  into  my  hands  the  thunder  and 
the  lightning — to  call  Cabanacte  from  the  wilds 
and  to  smite  the  sun -priests  if  they  follow  us. 
To-morrow  I  will  make  the  echoes  of  the  forest 
lead  your  grandson  to  us  here.  But  now  we 
must  have  rest,  for  Coyocop  is  weary,  and  the 
dawn  must  find  us  up." 

St.  Maturin,  the  friend  of  fools,  still  played 
de  Sancerre's  game.  As  the  Frenchman,  fol 
lowed  by  the  women,  to  whom  each  step  they 
took  was  now  a  hardship,  entered  the  nearest 
hut,  he  saw  at  once  that  his  withdrawal  from  de 
la  Salle's  expedition,  and  the  loss  of  Chatemuc 
and  Katonah,  had  led  the  explorer  to  lighten  his 
equipment  by  the  contents  of  one  canoe,  intend 
ing,  doubtless,  to  retake  the  stores  upon  his  re 
turn  should  circumstances  make  them  again  of 
value  to  him.  A  boat -load  of  corn-meal  and 
226 


DE   SANCERRE'S    VARIED   EMOTIONS 

gunpowder  had  been  stored  in  the  hut  in  the 
hope  that  neither  the  weather  nor  roving  savages 
would  deprive  the  returning  explorers  of  its  use. 

"  Nom  de  Dieu!"  cried  the  Frenchman,  gay- 
ly,  as  he  pointed  to  the  godsend  which  made 
his  light  heart  lighter.  "  There  lie  food  and 
ammunition.  'Tis  true,  indeed,  that  Heaven  has 
been  kind  to  us !  And  so  I  leave  you,  Madem 
oiselle  de  Aquilar,  to  your  prayers  and  sleep.  I 
must  make  further  search." 

Old  Noeo,  who  had  paid  out  the  last  link  of 
her  energy,  had  made  a  shake-down  of  the  meal- 
bags,  and  her  labored  breathing  proved  that  her 
aged  bones  were  finding  the  rest  they  craved. 
De  Sancerre  held  Dona  Julia's  cold,  trembling 
hand  in  his  and  gazed  upon  her  weary  face  for  a 
long  moment,  whose  very  silence  was  eloquent 
with  words  he  could  not  speak. 

"  Good-night,  monsieur,"  faltered  the  girl,  tears 
born  of  gratitude  and  physical  weariness  dim 
ming  the  dark  beauty  of  her  eyes. 

"  Good-night,"  he  said,  bending  to  touch  her 
white  hand  with  his  lips.  Then  he  drew  himself 
erect,  trembling  as  if  the  damp  breeze  from  the 
river  had  chilled  his  overwrought  frame.  Sud 
denly  he  clasped  the  weeping  girl  to  his  breast, 
and  his  lips  met  hers  in  a  kiss  which  crowned  the 
miracle  the  saints  had  wrought  for  them. 

"  My  love  !    My  love !"  whispered  de  Sancerre ; 

227 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

and  when  he  reached  the  moonlit  night  outside 
the  hut  again  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  river 
and  the  forest  had  changed  their  outlines  to  his 
eyes  and  that  he  stood  within  the  confines  of  a 
paradise.  He  seated  himself  upon  the  sloping- 
margin  of  the  stream,  vainly  attempting  to  recall 
his  soaring  thoughts  to  the  homely  exigencies  of 
his  grim  environment.  It  was  no  paradise  by 
which  he  was  surrounded.  A  lonely  flood  find 
ing  its  way  to  a  lonely  sea  lay  before  his  eyes, 
while  at  his  back  stood  a  pathless  wilderness 
through  which,  even  at  this  moment,  black 
hearted  fanatics,  skilled  in  woodcraft,  might  be 
following  his  trail.  This  dark  thought,  clouding 
the  splendor  of  a  dream  begotten  by  a  kiss,  led 
de  Sancerre,  almost  unconsciously,  to  take  from 
the  ground  at  his  side  the  awkward  musket  with 
which  chance  had  armed  him.  He  longed  to 
test  its  prowess  as  an  ally,  to  prove  to  his  troubled 
mind  that  dampness  and  neglect  had  not  robbed 
the  flintlock  of  its  heritage.  With  no  intention 
of  giving  way  to  the  curiosity  which  assailed  him, 
the  Frenchman  carefully  loaded  the  gun  with 
powder  and  ball  and  raised  it  affectionately  to 
his  shoulder.  In  that  hour  of  peril  and  loneliness 
the  musket  seemed  to  be  a  friend  speaking  to 
him  of  de  la  Salle's  loyalty  and  persistence  and 
of  the  certainty  that  his  return  from  the  gulf 
could  not  be  long  delayed. 


DE  SANCERRE'S  VARIED  EMOTIONS 

Suddenly  an  uncanny  premonition  crept  over 
de  Sancerre,  whose  nervous  energy  had  been  ex 
hausted  by  a  day  and  night  of  strangely  con 
trasted  emotions  and  by  a  physical  strain  whose 
reaction  was  now  taking  its  revenge.  Turning 
his  back  to  the  river,  de  Sancerre's  restless  eyes 
swept  the  black,  threatening  line  of  the  forest, 
behind  which  the  moon  was  drooping.  Presently 
his  heart  seemed  to  clutch  his  throat  and  the 
long  barrel  of  the  musket  trembled  as  his  hand 
shook  for  an  instant.  At  the  edge  of  the  woods, 
two  hundred  yards  beyond  the  camp,  stood  a 
white,  naked  thing,  resembling  in  outline  a  man, 
but  as  shadowy  and  ghostly  as  a  creature  made 
of  moonbeams.  It  stood  erect  for  a  moment  and 
then  bent  down  as  if  it  would  crawl  back  into 
the  forest  upon  all  fours. 

Impulsively,  de  Sancerre  covered  the  apparition 
with  his  gun  and  snapped  the  steel  against  the 
flint.  A  crash,  echoing  across  the  startled  flood, 
and  hurled  back  in  anger  by  the  bushes  and  the 
trees,  made  sudden  war  upon  the  silence  of  the 
stately  night.  When  the  smoke  from  the  friend 
ly  gun — in  good  case  to  serve  the  Frenchman's 
ends  —  had  cleared  away,  de  Sancerre  saw  no 
ghastly  victim  of  his  marksmanship  lying  in 
white  relief  against  the  black  outline  of  the 
woods.  "  Mayhap,"  he  reflected,  "  my  bullet 
passed  through  a  shadow  not  of  earth!  Don 
229 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

Joseph  ?  Perhaps  I  drew  him  back  from  hell 
with  that  dear  kiss  I  won  !  But  what  mad 
thoughts  are  these?  'Twas  but  a  gray  wolf 
in  the  scrub,  or  a  vision  raised  by  my  own 
weariness.  At  all  events,  ma  petite"  he  ex 
claimed,  patting  the  smoking  musket  content 
edly,  "there's  now  no  doubt  that  you  and  I 
agree." 

A  soft  touch  fell  upon  de  Sancerre's  arm,  and, 
turning,  he  looked  into  the  white,  agitated  face 
of  Dona  Julia. 

"  Fear  not,  senora,"  he  exclaimed,  earnestly. 
u  Forgive  me  that  I  disturbed  your  rest.  But  it 
seemed  best  to  me  to  try  the  temper  of  this 
clumsy  gun.  'Tis  always  well  to  know  how 
great  may  be  the  prowess  of  an  ally  whom  you 
have  gained." 

Her  dark  eyes  were  reading  his  face  closely. 

"  They  have  not  found  us  ?"  she  asked,  eagerly. 
"  You  did  not  shoot  at  men  ?" 

"  Only  at  a  target  made  by  dreams,"  he  an 
swered,  reassuringly.  "I  shot  at  the  phantom 
of  my  hate,  ma  chere,  and,  lo !  it  brought  my 
love  to  me." 

Her  dark  eyes  fell  until  their  long  black  lashes 
rested  against  her  white  face. 

"  You  love  me,  senor  ?"  she  whispered,  in  a 
voice  which  filled  his  soul  with  an  ecstasy  it  had 
never  known  before. 

230 


DE    SANCERRE'S    VARIED    EMOTIONS 

And  once  again  the  waters  of  the  listening 
river  bore  a  love -tale  to  the  distant  gulf  —  a 
strange,  sweet  sequel  to  gossip  which  the  waves 
had  heard  before. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

IN   WHICH    SPIRITS,  GOOD  AND   BAD,  BESET   A 
WILDERNESS 

CABANACTE'S  wooing  of  Katonah,  an  idyl  of 
the  forest,  a  love-poem  lost  in  the  wilds,  a  spring 
song  set  to  halting  words,  had  filled  two  simple 
lives  with  sadness  through  days  of  wandering 
and  nights  of  melancholy  dreams.  When  the 
stalwart  sun- worshipper  had  first  overtaken  the 
girl,  fleeing  she  knew  not  whither,  and  inspired 
by  a  motive  which  she  could  not  analyze,  Caba- 
nacte  had  been  greeted  by  a  faint,  apathetic  smile 
which  had  aroused  in  his  heart  the  hope  that,  as 
time  went  by,  her  eyes  might  look  into  his  with 
the  light  of  a  great  happiness  shining  in  their 
depths. 

As  the  days  and  nights  came  and  went  and 
returned  again,  while  a  glad  world  chanted  the 
wedding-song  of  spring,  and  the  forest  whispered 
the  gossip  of  the  mating-time,  Cabanacte's  gen 
tleness  brought  peace  without  passion,  affection 
without  encouragement,  into  Katonah's  gaze  as 
it  rested  upon  the  dark,  strong,  kindly  face  of 
232 


SPIRITS    BESET    A    WILDERNESS 

the  dusky  youth.  Keclining  at  her  feet  for  hours 
at  a  time,  the  bronze  giant  would  attempt  to  tell 
the  story  of  his  love  to  the  Mohican  maiden  in 
broken  Spanish,  only  a  few  words  of  which  Ka- 
tonah  understood.  But  what  mattered  the  tongue 
in  which  he  spoke?  The  moon  of  old  corn  was 
at  the  full,  and  the  universe  grew  eloquent  with 
a  language  which  every  living  creature  compre 
hended.  The  birds  were  singing  in  the  trees 
from  a  libretto  which  the  squirrels  and  chip 
munks  knew  by  heart.  The  wild  flowers  blushed 
at  a  romance  buzzed  by  bees,  and  from  the  grass 
and  the  waters  and  the  forest -glades  arose  a 
myriad  of  voices  repeating  the  ballad  of  that 
gayest  of  all  troubadours,  the  spring-time  of  the 
South. 

Cabanacte's  wooing  assumed  many  varying 
forms.  As  a  huntsman  he  would  lay  the  tro 
phies  of  his  skill  at  Katonah's  feet.  He  would 
lure  a  fish  from  a  stream,  and,  making  a  fire  by 
rubbing  wood  against  a  stone,  would  serve  to  her 
a  tempting  dish  upon  a  platter  made  of  bark. 
"Wild  plums,  yellow  or  red,  berries  luscious  with 
the  essence  of  the  sunshine,  and  ripe,  sweet  figs 
served  as  seductive  foils  to  the  burnt-offerings 
which  he  placed  upon  the  altar  of  his  love. 

Hand  in  hand  they  would  wander  aimlessly 
through  the  flower-scented  woods  by  day,  silent 
for  hours  at  a  time  and  soothed  into  contentment 
*  233 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

by  a  barbaric  indifference  to  what  the  future 
might  have  in  store  for  them.  At  night  Kato- 
nah  would  sleep  beneath  a  sheltering  tree,  while 
Cabanacte  watched  by  her  side  until  his  eyes 
grew  dim  and  his  head  would  wobble  from  the 
fillips  of  fatigue.  Presently  he  would  shake 
slumber  from  his  stooping  shoulders  and  sit  erect, 
to  gaze  down  lovingly  upon  the  quiet  face  and 
the  slender,  graceful  figure  of  the  melancholy 
maiden,  whose  beauty  was  more  potent  to  his 
eyes  than  the  heavy  hand  of  sleep.  Why  should 
Cabanacte  give  way  to  dreams  while  his  gaze 
could  rest  upon  a  vision  of  the  night  more  grate 
ful  to  his  longing  soul  than  the  fairest  picture 
that  his  fancy  had  ever  drawn? 

Now  and  again  the  dusky  giant  would  gently 
touch  the  sleeping  maiden's  brow  with  trembling 
fingers,  or  bend  down  to  press  with  reverent  lips 
a  kiss  upon  her  cool,  smooth  cheek.  Half-awak 
ened  .by  his  caress,  Katonah  would  stir  restless 
ly  in  the  arms  of  mother-earth,  and  Cabanacte, 
alarmed  and  repentant,  would  draw  himself  erect 
again  to  continue  his  conflict  with  the  prompt 
ings  of  his  love  and  the  call  to  oblivion  with  which 
sleep  assailed  him. 

Often  in  the  heat  of  noonda}r  his  guard  would 

be  relieved,  and  he  would  slumber  beneath  the 

trees  while  Katonah  sat  as  sentry  by  his  side. 

Then  would  the  flying  and  the  climbing  and  the 

234 


SPIRITS    BESET    A    WILDERNESS 

crawling  creatures  of  the  forest  come  forth  to 
sing  and  chatter  and  squeak  in  the  effort  to  lure 
the  silent,  sad -eyed  maiden  to  tell  to  them  the 
secret  of  her  heart.  Of  whom  was  she  thinking 
as  she  reclined  against  a  tree-trunk  and  gazed,  not 
at  the  stalwart,  picturesque  youth  stretched  in 
sleep  upon  the  greensward  at  her  side,  but  up  at 
the  white-flecked,  May-day  sky,  a  patch  of  dotted 
blue  above  the  flowering  trees?  Why  did  the 
tears  creep  into  her  dark,  gentle  eyes  at  such  a 
time  as  this?  Was  she  not  young  and  strong  and 
beautiful?  Was  not  all  nature  joyous  with  the 
bounding  pulse  of  spring?  What  craveth  this 
brown-cheeked  maiden  which  the  kindly  earth 
has  not  bestowed?  Surely,  the  sleeping  strip 
ling  at  her  feet  is  \vorthy  of  her  maiden  heart ! 
Not  often  does  the  spring-time  lure  into  the 
forest,  to  meet  the  searching,  knowing  eyes  of  a 
thousand  living  creatures,  a  nobler  youth  than  he 
who,  for  days  and  nights,  has  been  her  worship 
per  and  slave.  The  forest  is  young  to-day  with 
vernal  ecstasy,  but,  oh,  how  old  it  is  with  the 
worldly  wisdom  of  long  centuries  !  What  means 
this  futile  wooing  of  a  sunburnt  demigod  and 
the  cold  indifference  of  a  stubborn  maiden,  who 
sighs  and  weeps  when  all  the  joys  of  this  glad 
earth  are  hers? 

The  forest  holds  a  mystery,  a  problem  strange 
and  new.     The  breeze  at  sunset  tells  the  story 
235 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

to  the  blushing  waters  of  the  lakes,  and  spreads 
the  gossip  through  the  swamps  and  glades.  The 
moonbeams  steal  abroad  and  verify  the  tale  that 
the  twilight  breeze  had  voiced.  A  youth  and 
maiden,  young  and  beautiful,  so  runs  the  chatter 
of  the  woods  and  streams,  wander  in  sadness  along 
a  zigzag  trail,  and,  while  he  sighs,  the  maiden 
weeps  and  moans.  There  is  no  precedent,  in  all 
the  forest  lore,  for  this  strange,  futile  quest  of 
misery,  this  daily  search  for  some  new  cause  for 
tears  where  all  the  world  is  singing  hymns  of  joy 
and  praise. 

And  all  the  questions  which  the  forest  asked 
had  found  an  echo  in  Cabanacte's  soul.  Why 
should  Katonah  gaze  into  his  loving  eyes  with 
a  glance  which  spoke  of  sorrow  at  her  heart? 
What  was  there  in  all  this  wondrous  paradise  of 
earth  which  he,  a  youth  of  mighty  prowess, 
could  not  lay  at  her  dear  feet  ?  lie  would  take 
her  to  the  City  of  the  Sun  and  teach  her  how  to 
smile  in  gladness,  how  to  make  his  home  a  joy. 
Did  she  fear  the  slavish  drudgery  of  the  women 
of  her  race  and  his  ?  Oh,  Sun  in  Heaven,  could 
he  but  make  her  understand  the  broken  Spanish 
of  his  clumsy  tongue,  he'd  swear  an  oath  to  toil 
for  her  from  year  to  year,  to  keep  her  slender 
hands  at  rest  and  hold  her  higher  than  the  wives 
whose  fate  she  feared ! 

Often  would  Cabanacte  take  Katonah's  hand 
236 


SPIRITS    BESET    A    WILDERNESS 

in  his,  and,  smiling  up  at  her  as  she  leaned  against 
a  tree,  strive  to  make  his  scraps  of  Spanish  aid 
the  noble  purpose  of  his  heart.  Now  and  then 
the  knowledge  which  the  girl  had  gained  of 
French  would  serve  Cabanacte's  turn,  and  she 
would  smile  in  comprehension  of  some  word 
which  he  had  voiced.  After  a  time  she  found 
herself  amused  and  interested  by  his  earnest 
efforts  to  put  her  into  touch  with  the  ardent,  un 
complicated  longings  of  his  simple  soul.  One 
day  she  had  attempted  to  make  answer  to  his 
question — clarified  by  the  eloquence  of  primitive 
gestures— whether  she  would  return  with  him  to 
the  City  of  the  Sun.  They  had  laughed  aloud 
at  the  strange  linguistic  jumble  which  had  en 
sued,  and  the  spying  gossips  of  the  forest  had 
sent  forth  the  stirring  rumor  that  the  coy  maiden 
had  dried  her  tears  and  was  at  last  worthy  of 
the  blessings  of  the  spring.  But  hardly  had  the 
forest  learned  the  story  of  Katonah's  laughter, 
when  the  tears  gleamed  in  her  eyes  and  her 
whispered  negative  drove  the  smile  from  Caba- 
nacte's  face. 

From  this  beginning,  however,  the  youth  and 
maiden  had  developed,  through  the  long,  aimless 
hours  of  their  sylvan  wanderings,  a  curious,  amor 
phous  patois,  made  up  of  a  few  words  culled 
from  the  French  and  Spanish  tongues  and  forced 
by  Cabanacte  to  tell  an  ancient  tale  in  a  language 
237 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

new  to  man.  It  brought  renewed  hope  to  the 
youth's  sinking  heart  to  find  words  which  could 
drive,  if  only  for  a  moment,  the  mournful  gleam 
from  Katonah's  sad  eyes,  or,  when  fate  was  very 
kind,  tempt  a  fleeting  smile  to  her  trembling 
lips. 

But  even  after  they  had  garnered  a  few  use 
ful  words  from  Latin  roots,  there  remained  a 
heavy  shadow  upon  the  hearts  of  Katonah  and 
her  swain.  Between  them  stood  an  elusive,  in 
tangible,  but  persistent  and  domineering,  some 
thing,  which  restrained  Cabanacte  with  its  cruel 
grip,  and  often  turned  Katonah  deaf  to  her 
lover's  passionate  words  and  blind  to  the  ador 
ing  splendor  which  shone  in  his  burning  eyes. 
A  savage  maiden's  foolish  dream,  a  cherished 
memory  which  haunted  her  by  day  and  crept 
into  her  sleep  at  night  decreed  that  Cabanacte 
should  woo  her  heart  in  vain  and  in  a  forest 
musical  with  love  should  grow  sick  with  longing 
for  the  word  that  she  would  not  speak.  With 
gentle  wiles  and  all  the  art  his  simple  nature 
knew  he  laid  before  Katonah  the  treasures  of 
devotion,  and,  'though  she  smiled,  and  gazed  into 
his  eyes  with  tender  gratitude,  she  waved  them 
all  aside  and  sat  in  silence  in  the  moonlit  night, 
recalling  a  pale,  clear  -  cut  face  upon  which  she 
never  hoped  to  look  again. 

It  was  long  past  midnight,  and  Cabanacte, 
238 


A   WHITE-PACED    MAN    PRESSING   TO    HIS   BREAST   A 
DARK  HAIRED   MAIDEN" 


SPIRITS    BESET    A   WILDERNESS 

wearv  of  his  vigil,  and  worn  with  the  melancholy 
thoughts  which  oppressed  him,  leaned  against  a 
tree  and  dozed  for  a  time  while  the  maiden,  re 
clining  at  his  side,  listened  in  her  dreams  to  a 
mocking  voice  which  had  aforetime  been  music 
to  her  heart.  The  murmurs  of  the  night  had 
died  away  to  silence  as  the  moon  fell  toward 
the  west,  and  the  forest  had  settled  itself  for  a 
nap  before  the  dawn  should  hail  the  noisy  day, 
when  Katonah  and  Cabanacte  were  hurled  to 
their  feet  by  a  crackling  crash,  which  echoed 
through  the  protesting  woods  with  a  threatening 
insistence  that  stopped  for  an  instant  the  beat 
ing  of  their  hearts.  Seizing  the  girl's  cold  hand, 
Cabanacte,  glancing  around  him  upon  all  sides 
with  affrighted  eyes,  rushed  wildly  away  from 
the  oak-tree  beneath  which  they  had  found  rest, 
and  strove,  with  a  giant's  strength,  to  win  his 
way  to  the  great  river  as  a  refuge  from  a  wilder 
ness  in  which  evil  spirits  menaced  them  with 
ugly  cries.  Suddenly  the  stalwart  youth  paused 
in  his  mad  career  and  drew  the  panting  maiden 
close  to  his  side.  Far  away  between  the  trees  a 
ghastly  creature,  a  spectral  man  or  monkey, 
crept  and  ran  and  bounded  toward  the  shadow- 
haunted  depths  of  the  forest  from  which  they 
lied.  Knowing  all  the  secrets  of  the  woods,  Ca 
banacte  turned  cold  at  the  fleeting  vision  which 
had  checked  his  wild  flight,  for  never  had  he 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

seen  beneath  the  moon  so  weird  a  sight.  Al 
most  before  he  could  regain  his  breath  it  had 
come  and  gone,  and  the  night  was  once  again 
his  lonely,  silent  friend. 

Trembling  from  the  cumulative  horrors  which 
had  so  suddenly  beset  their  ears  and  eyes,  Ca- 
banacte  and  Katonah  stole  through  the  forest 
toward  the  river,  which  glimmered  now  and  then 
between  the  trees.  The  giant's  arm  was  thrown 
around  Katonah's  slender  waist,  and  Cabanacte 
could  feel  the  hurried  beating  of  her  aching  heart 
as  he  pressed  her  to  his  side,  as  if  to  defend  her 
from  some  new  peril  lurking  in  these  treacher 
ous  wilds. 

Suddenly,  as  they  crept  apprehensively  toward 
the  outskirts  of  the  trees,  the  broad  expanse  of 
the  Mississippi  broke  upon  their  sight,  and,  be 
tween  their  coigne  of  vantage  and  the  river,  they 
saw  a  tableau  which  emphasized  their  growing 
conviction  that  some  strange  enchantment  was 
working  wonders  on  the  earth  at  night,  to  bind 
them  together  by  ties  woven  in  the  land  of 
ghosts. 

Before  their  startled  gaze  stood  a  slender, 
white-faced  man  pressing  to  his  breast  a  dark- 
haired  maiden  clad  in  black,  and  as  they  crouch 
ed  beneath  the  underbrush  they  saw  the  brother 
of  the  moon  bend  down  and  kiss  the  spirit  of 
the  sun. 

240 


SPIRITS    BESET    A   WILDERNESS 

"  'Tis  Coyocop !"  muttered  Cabanacte,  in  a 
voice  of  wonder  and  adoration.  "  She  has  come 
to  the  forest  to  drive  away  the  evil  demons  of 
the  night!" 

"Come!"  whispered  Katonah,  urging  her  lover 
by  the  hand  toward  the  woods  from  which  they 
had  just  escaped  — "  come,  Cabanacte  !  I  love 
you !  Do  you  understand  my  words  ?  I  love 
you,  Cabanacte !  Come  !" 

As  the  dusky  giant,  a  willing  captive  led  back 
to  a  joyous  prison,  followed  Katonah  toward  the 
haunted  glades,  he  knew  that  Coyocop  had 
wrought  a  miracle  and  had  banished  from  the 
forest  the  demons  who  had  warred  against  his 
love. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

IN    WHICH    DE    SANCERRE    WEEPS  AND    FIGHTS 

"  I  HAVE  searched  in  all  directions,"  remarked 
de  Sancerre  to  Dofia  Julia,  standing  upon  the 
river-bank  and  watching  the  early  sunbeams  as 
they  greeted  the  rippling  flood,  "  and  I  fear  my 
captain's  people  did  not  abandon  the  canoe  whose 
contents  they  left  here  as  a  gift  from  the  good 
St.  Maturin.  But  we  are  in  good  case !  'Tis 
a  kindly  stream,  and  its  bosom  will  bear  us  gen 
tly  to  my  friends.  The  walls  of  these  frail  huts 
will  serve  us  well  to  form  a  raft." 

The  Spanish  maiden  watched  the  golden  glory 
of  the  dawn,  as  it  made  a  mirror  of  the  stately 
stream,  with  eyes  which  glowed  with  happiness 
and  peace.  The  dread  of  many  perils  which 
beset  de  Sancerre's  mind  found  no  reflection  in 
the  devout  soul  of  Julia  de  Aquilar.  Had  not 
the  saints  wrought  miracles  to  lead  her  from 
captivity?  "Weak,  indeed,  would  be  her  faith  if 
she  doubted  the  kind  persistence  of  their  aid. 

"  'Tis  but  repaying  what  I  owe,  senora.  if  I 
should  make  you  safe  at  last,"  continued  de  San- 
242 


DE   SANCEKRE    WEEPS    AND    FIGHTS 

cerre,  musingly,  taking  Dona  Julia's  hand  in  his. 
"You  saved  my  life.  You  have  not  told  me  how 
you  knew  they'd  dressed  my  fish  with  poison 
from  the  woods." 

"Ah,  monsieur,"  sighed  the  girl,  regretting 
that  he  had  recalled  the  sorrows  and  dangers  of 
the  past,  which  seemed  to  her  at  this  glad  hour 
like  the  unreal  horrors  of  a  nightmare  forever 
ended.  "You  must  remember  that  I've  spent 
a  long,  sad  year  in  that  City  of  the  Sun.  I'm 
quick  to  learn  an  alien  tongue,  and,  without  ef 
fort,  I  came  to  understand  the  language  of  the 
priests.  The  saints  be  praised,  I'll  know  no  more 
of  it !  And  so  I  heard  them  plotting  in  the 
night  outside  my  door  to  give  you  poison  in  the 
fish  you  ate.  I  prayed  to  Mother  Mary  to  find 
a  way — and,  lo!  my  prayer  was  answered,  for 
Noco  came  to  me !" 

"Mafoi,  how  much  we  owe  toNoco !"  exclaimed 
de  Sancerre,  scanning  the  river  and  the  forest  with 
searching  eyes,  as  he  turned  to  lead  Dona  Julia 
to  the  hut  in  which,  through  the  aid  of  their 
aged  companion,  they  were  to  break  their  fast. 
By  means  of  the  flintlock  on  his  gun  de  San 
cerre  had  kindled  a  fire,  at  which  Noco  had  been 
cooking  cakes  of  corn-meal,  the  odor  from  which 
now  mingled  with  the  bracing  fragrance  of  the 
cool  May  morning. 

As  they  entered  the  hut  the  girl  uttered  a  cry 
243 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

of  dismay,  and  de  Sancerre  strode  quickly  to  the 
prostrate  form  of  their  faithful  counsellor  and 
guide.  Stretched  before  a  snapping  tire  of  twigs, 
with  her  last  earthly  task  undone,  lay  Noco, dead, 
the  grin  and  wrinkles  smoothed  from  her  old, 
brown  face  by  the  kindly  hand  of  eternal  sleep. 
The  strain  of  the  night's  wild  race  had  been  too 
great  for  her  brave  heart,  and,  when  called  upon 
by  the  labor  of  the  day,  it  had  ceased  to  beat. 

Dona  Julia  threw  herself  upon  her  knees  be 
side  the  only  friend  she  had  known  in  her  long 
captivity,  and,  with  sobs  and  prayers,  gave  vent 
to  the  sorrow  in  her  heart. 

"Nom  de  Dieu!  I  think  I  loved  that  queer 
old  hag!"  murmured  de  Sancerre  to  himself, 
brushing  a  tear  from  his  pale  cheek,  as  he  turned 
toward  the  wood-fire  to  resume  the  work  from 
which  ISToco  had  been  called  by  death.  "  I  thought 
there  was  no  limit  to  the  vigor  in  her  frame ! 
Alas  for  her,  I  set  the  pace  too  hot !" 

But  there  was  no  time  for  sighs  and  vain  re 
grets.  De  Sancerre  knew  the  woods  too  well  to 
let  his  fire  long  toss  the  smoke  between  the  fis 
sures  of  the  hut.  Removing  the  corn-cakes  from 
the  blaze,  he  extinguished  the  flames  at  once,  and 
urged  Dona  Julia  to  eat  freely  of  a  simple  meal. 

"  Remember,  senora,"  pleaded  de  Sancerre, 
earnestly,  seeing  that  the  sudden  taking-off  of 
their  aged  comrade  had  robbed  the  sorrowing 
244 


DE   SANCERRE    WEEPS    AND    FIGHTS 

girl  of  all  desire  for  food — "  remember  that  the 
larder  of  our  raft  will  be  a  crude  affair.  I  know 
not  when  the  luxury  of  corn-cakes  will  tempt  our 
teeth  again." 

Dona  Julia  smiled  sadly  and  renewed  her  ef 
forts  to  do  justice  to  a  repast  for  which  she  had 
no  heart. 

"  Think  not,  seiior,"  she  said,  in  Spanish,  gaz 
ing  at  de  Sancerre  with  eyes  bright  with  pride 
and  fortitude,  "  that  I  have  learned  no  lessons 
from  a  year  of  peril  and  dismay.  You  knew  me 
in  the  luxury  of  courts.  Methinks  you'll  find 
me  changed  in  many  ways.  I  mourn  old  Noco. 
She  saved  me  from  despair.  She  hated  Span 
iards,  but  she  worshipped  me.  Ah,  senor,  she 
had  a  loyal  heart.  May  the  saints  be  kind  to 
her !" 

"  Amen !"  exclaimed  de  Sancerre,  fervently. 
"  And  now,  senora,  we  have  no  time  to  lose  ! 
Untie  the  meal-bags  in  the  corner  there  and  bring 
the  cords  to  me.  I'll  pull  a  hut  to  pieces  and 
make  a  raft  of  logs  upon  the  shore.  For  every 
mile  the  river  puts  between  this  spot  and  us,  I'll 
vow  a  candle  to  St.  Maturin." 

Fastening  a  powder-horn  and  a  bullet-pouch  to 
his  waist,  to  the  deep  resentment  of  his  patrician 
rapier,  de  Sancerre,  with  gun  in  hand,  hurried  to 
the  river-bank  and  chose  a  convenient  spot  from 
which  to  launch  his  treacherous  craft  upon  a 
245 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

kindly  current  flowing  toward  the  camp  of 
friends.  As  the  hours  passed  by  and  his  raft 
grew  in  size  and  strength,  the  depression  which 
the  death  of  Noco  had  cast  upon  de  Sancerre's 
spirits  stole  away,  and  there  were  hope  and  cheer 
in  the  smiles  with  which  he  greeted  Dona  Julia 
when  she  came  to  him.  now  and  again  from  the 
hut  with  stout  cords  with  which  he  spliced  to 
gether  the  clumsy,  stubborn  logs  of  his  rude  boat. 
At  short  intervals  he  would  abandon  his  task  as 
a  raft -builder  to  scan,  with  straining  eyes,  the 
broad  expanse  of  river  upon  his  left,  or  to  listen 
breathlessly  for  sounds  of  menacing  import  in 
the  forest  at  his  back.  But  the  sun  had  reached 
the  zenith,  his  raft  was  nearly  built,  and  de  San- 
cerre  could  discover,  neither  upon  flood  nor  land, 
aught  to  suggest  that  man-hunting  man  was  stir 
ring  at  high  noon. 

"  Courage,  mademoiselle,"  he  cried,  gayly,  in 
his  native  tongue,  as  Dona  Julia,  pale  and  silent, 
approached  him  from  the  hut.  "Another  hour 
will  find  us  voyageurs  at  last.  We'll  name  our 
gallant  little  ship  La  Coyocop  /" 

"The  saints  forefend!"  exclaimed  the  girl, 
smiling  at  his  fancy.  "  'Twould  bring  disaster 
with  it !  'Tis  a  heathen  name !  We'll  christen 
our  good  raft  in  honor  of  the  Virgin  or  the 
saints.  They  have  been  kind  to  us !" 

" Ma  foi,  you  speak  the  truth,  ma  chere  !  My 
246 


DE   SANCERRE    WEEPS    AND    FIGHTS 

patron  saint,  the  kindly  Maturin,  has  saved  me 
from  all  blunders  for  a  day.  If  ever  I  should  see 
a  godly  land  again,  I'll  raise  an  altar  to  his 
memory." 

The  mocking  undertone  in  de  Sancerre's  light, 
laughing  voice  recalled  to  Dona  Julia  the  old 
days  at  Versailles  when  this  same  man,  who,  by 
a  marvel  wrought  in  Paradise,  now  stood  beside 
her  in  a  wilderness,  had  touched  upon  many  things 
which  she  had  held  in  high  regard  with  the  ir 
reverent  wit  of  a  flippant  tongue.  But,  on  the 
instant,  she  felt  that  she  had  been  unjust  to  de 
Sancerre  in  taking,  even  for  a  moment,  the  path 
along  which  memory  led.  The  earnest,  coura 
geous,  resourceful  man  at  her  side  was  not  the 
debonair,  satirical  cavalier  whom  she  had  known 
at  court.  She  had  said  to  him  that  he  would  find 
a  change  in  her,  wrought  by  a  year  of  danger  and 
despair.  She  realized,  through  the  quick  intui 
tions  of  a  loving  heart,  that  during  that  same 
lapse  of  time  the  wild,  stirring  life  which  he  had 
led  had  touched  the  nobler  chords  in  the  soul  of 
de  Sancerre,  and  had  brought  to  view  a  manly 
earnestness  and  force  which  had  stamped  his  mo 
bile  face  with  an  imprint  grateful  to  her  eyes. 
At  Versailles  the  courtier  had  fascinated  her 
against  her  will.  In  the  wilderness  the  man 
had  won  the  unforced  homage  of  her  admira 
tion.  If,  now  and  then,  his  tongue,  by  habit, 
247 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

used  flippant  words  to  speak  of  mighty  myste 
ries,  the  saints  in  heaven  would  forgive  him  this, 
for  he  had  grown  to  be  a  man  well  worthy  of 
their  tender  care. 

The  truth  of  this  came  to  Dona  Julia  with  re 
newed  insistence  as  she  and  de  Sancerre,  having 
made  the  final  preparations  for  their  embarka 
tion,  knelt  beside  old  JSToco's  corpse  and,  hand 
clasping  hand,  voiced  a  prayer  for  the  repose  of 
their  faithful  ally's  soul. 

"I  dare  not  wait  to  give  her  burial,"  said  de 
Sancerre,  regretfully,  as  he  and  the  girl  left  the 
hut,  carrying  to  their  raft  what  little  corn-meal 
and  gunpowder  their  frail  craft  allowed  to  them 
as  cargo.  "  But  well  I  know  the  saints  will  treat 
her  well.  Her  claim  upon  them  is  the  same  as 
mine." 

Dona  Julia  glanced  up  at  de  Sancerre,  ques- 
tioningly.  He  looked  into  her  dark,  earnest  eyes 
with  his  heart  in  his,  and  answered  her  in  Spanish: 

"  Old  Noco  worshipped  you,  senora — as  I  do ! 
Caramba  !  What  is  that  ?" 

The  Frenchman  stood  motionless  for  a  mo 
ment  watching  an  object  which  broke  the  monot 
ony  of  the  river's  broad  expanse  on  their  left. 
Presently  he  placed  the  keg  of  gunpowder,  which 
he  had  been  carrying,  upon  the  shore,  and,  seizing 
the  long,  clumsy  musket  at  his  feet,  examined  the 
pan  and  hammer. 

248 


DE    SANCERRE    WEEPS    AND    FIGHTS 

"What  is  it,  senor?"  asked  the  girl,  calmly, 
glancing  up  the  river  at  a  bobbing,  white  speck 
far  to  the  northward,  and  then  looking  into  de 
Sancerre's  pale,  set  face  with  eyes  in  which  no 
terror  gleamed. 

"  I  hardly  know,  senora !"  exclaimed  the  French 
man.  "But  I  fancy  'tis  a  thing  which  has  no 
hold  upon  the  saints  !" 

"  You  think  it  is—" 

"  I  fear  it  is  a  war-canoe  of  white-robed  devils, 
whose  only  claim  to  mercy  is  that  they  knew  you 
were  from  God.  But  listen,  ma  chere.  They 
must  not  see  you  here !  There  is  no  safety  for 
us  within  the  woods,  for  they  would  find  my 
raft  and  track  us  quickly  to  the  trees.  The 
weird  moon-magic  of  this  snaphance  gun  must 
turn  them  from  their  course.  Go  back  into  the 
hut,  and  let  their  black  eyes  search  for  you  in 
vain.  With  good  St.  Maturin's  most  timely  gift 
I'll  show  them  that  a  bullet  is  harder  than  their 
hearts." 

"  Ah,  no — I  cannot  leave  you  now !"  exclaimed 
the  girl,  shuddering  at  the  prospect  of  a  lonely 
vigil  in  the  room  where  Noco  lay. 

"  This  is  no  place  for  you,  senora,"  said  de  San- 
cerre,  grimly,  glancing  again  at  the  river,  down 
which  a  large  canoe,  manned  by  ten  stalwart 
sun -worshippers,  which  rose  and  fell  upon  the 
favoring  tide,  was  approaching  them  with  its 

249 


WITH    SWORD   AND    CRUCIFIX 

menace  of  death  for  de  Sancerre  and  captivity 
for  the  girl.  "  Go  to  the  hut  at  once!  I  shall  not 
keep  you  waiting  long.  If  the  magic  of  my  mus 
ket  should  not  avail,  we'll  test  the  friendliness  of 
yonder  trees.  But,  still,  I  think  my  merry  gun 
will  drive  the  cowards  back." 

A  moment  later  de  Sancerre,  humming  snatches 
of  the  love-song  which  he  had  sung  before  the 
cabin  of  the  goddess  Coyocop,  fingered  his  mus 
ket  with  impatience  as  he  waited  for  the  war- 
canoe  to  swing  within  easy  range  of  a  weapon 
with  which  he  had  had  no  long  experience. 

"Nom  de  Di-eu!"  he  muttered,  as  he  raised 
the  gun  to  his  shoulder  and  then  lowered  it 
again  to  await  a  more  favorable  opportunity  for 
his  initial  shot.  "  They  make  a  gallant  show  ! 
Their  sun-baked  brawn  and  muscle  form  a  tar 
get  which  would  rejoice  the  heart  of  a  coureur 
de  ~bois" 

At  that  instant  a  cry  of  mingled  rage  and  tri 
umph  arose  from  the  paddlers  as  they  discover 
ed  the  picturesque  figure,  standing  erect  upon 
the  bank  in  tattered  velvets  and  toying  with  a 
curiously-shaped  implement  which  had  no  ter 
rors  for  their  unsophisticated  eyes. 

"Mafoi,  I  think  the  time  is  ripe  to  do  my  lit 
tle  trick !"  exclaimed  de  Sancerre,  gayly,  a  smile 
of  derision  playing  across  his  thin  lips  as  the  echo 
of  his  pursuers'  shout  of  delight  and  anger  came 

250 


DE   SANCEERE    WEEPS    AND    FIGHTS 

back  to  him  from  the  wall  of  forest  trees.  "  My 
hand  is  steady,  and  my  heart  is  light!  You 
black-haired  devil,  drop  that  paddle  !" 

The  mimic  lightning  made  by  flint  and  steel 
changed  powder  into  noise,  and  as  the  river  and 
the  trees  tossed  back  and  forth  the  echoes  of  the 
musket's  roar,  a  dusky  athlete,  dropping  his  pad 
dle  with  a  moan,  toppled  over  dead  into  the 
shimmer  of  the  sun-kissed  waves. 

"Bien,  ma  petite  /"  cried  de  Sancerre,  patting 
his  smoking  gun  with  grateful  hand.  "  The 
magic  of  the  moon  is  Avorking  well  to-day." 

For  a  moment  the  horrified  sun -worshippers 
lost  control  of  their  canoe,  and  it  drifted  jerkily 
toward  the  centre  of  the  stream.  Presently, 
recovering  their  wits,  they  plunged  their  paddles 
into  the  flood  and  held  their  responsive,  graceful 
boat  steadfast  on  the  waves,  seemingly  in  doubt 
as  to  the  course  they  should  pursue. 

"  Confound  them !"  muttered  the  Frenchman, 
who  had  leisurely  recharged  his  musket.  "  'Tis 
strange  how  slow  these  bright-eyed  devils  are  to 
learn !  Do  they  want  ten  miracles,  when  one 
should  well  suffice  ?  They  seem  to  crave  another 
message  from  the  moon.  If  I  could  hit  a  moving 
boat-load,  I'll  have  no  trouble  now !  They're 
steadying  my  target — to  the  greater  glory  of  my 
magic  gun !  Adieu — once  more !" 

Again  the  peaceful  day  protested  loudly  against 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

de  Sancerre's  noisy  tricks,  and  the  waters  gained 
another  victim  from  the  worshippers  of  fire. 
There  was  no  further  hesitation  aboard  the  great 
canoe.  With  paddles  wielded  by  hands  cold  with 
fear,  and  arms  bursting  with  the  struggle  to  drive 
their  boat  beyond  the  fatal  circle  of  a  demon's 
witchery,  the  sun-worshippers  frantically  urged 
their  primitive  war-ship  upward  against  the  cur 
rent  of  this  treacherous  river  of  death.  Lay 
ing  his  faithful  gun  upon  the  bank,  de  Sancerre 
watched  his  retreating  foes  for  a  happy  moment. 
Removing  his  torn  bonnet  with  a  flourish  from 
his  throbbing  head,  he  made  a  stately  bow,  un 
heeded  by  the  terrified  canoemen,  and  cried 
gayly : 

"Adieu,  messieurs!  They'll  hear  of  you  in 
France  anon!  And  then  beware!  Adieu!" 

With  a  light  heart  and  feet  which  seemed  to 
spurn  the  sloping  bank,  de  Sancerre  rushed  tow 
ard  the  hut  in  which  the  woman  of  his  love  had 
been  listening  in  terror  to  the  scolding  of  his 
gun. 

"  Behold  me,  mademoiselle,"  he  cried,  jubilant 
ly,  as  he  drew  the  trembling  girl  to  his  breast, 
"  a  musketeer  who  wastes  no  powder  upon  his 
foes !  I  kiss  your  lips,  my  life  and  love !  The 
prayers  you  sent  to  Heaven,  I  well  know,  have 
saved  our  lives  again!  Another  kiss — and  so  we 
will  embark." 

252 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

IN   WHICH    DONA    JULIA    IS    REMINDED    OF   THE    PAST 

IT  was  night ;  black,  oppressively  damp,  with 
thunder  in  the  air  and  fitful  lightning  zigzagging 
across  the  sulky  sky.  "With  deep  sighs,  the 
forest  prepared  for  the  chastisement  of  the 
threatening  storm.  A  sound  like  the  sobbing  of 
great  trees  followed  the  distant  grumbling  of 
dark,  menacing  clouds.  The  flying,  climbing, 
crawling  creatures  of  the  woods  and  swamps 
and  river-banks  had  heeded  the  warnings  of  the 
hour  and  had  stolen  to  shelter  from  the  wrath  of 
the  fickle  spring-time. 

The  majestic  Mississippi,  swollen  with  the 
pride  of  power,  flowed  downward  in  silence 
through  the  gloom  to  throw  its  mighty  arms 
around  the  islands  near  the  gulf.  Now  and 
again  its  broad  expanse  would  reflect  for  an 
instant  the  lightning's  glare  and  then  grow 
blacker  than  before,  as  if  it  repented  of  its  rec 
ognition  of  the  storm.  Presently  great  drops 
of  water  pelted  the  bosom  of  the  stream, 
and  far  to  the  westward  the  forest  cried  out 
253 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

against  the  sudden  impact  of  the  resounding 
rain. 

For  many  hours  de  Sancerre  had  been  guiding 
his  raft  with  an  improvised  paddle,  the  blade  of 
which  he  had  made  from  the  wood  of  a  powder- 
keg,  and  the  long  afternoon,  when  it  had  run  its 
course,  had  left  the  adventurers  nearer  to  the 
gulf  by  many  weary  miles  than  they  had  been 
at  embarkation.  Worthy  of  the  trust  which  the 
dauntless  Frenchman  had  placed  in  it,  the  hospi 
table  stream  had  gently  carried  de  Sancerre's 
raft  down  the  watery  pathway  along  which 
Sieur  de  la  Salle  had  found  the  road  to  disaster 
and  immortality. 

An  hour  before  sunset,  however,  misfortune, 
in  defiance  of  the  saintly  name  which  Dona 
Julia  had  bestowed  upon  their  primitive  vessel, 
had  overtaken  the  fugitives.  Several  logs,  dis 
affected  through  the  t reach ery  of  rotten  cord, 
had  broken  away  from  the  sides.  Fearing  the 
complete  disintegration  of  his  raft,  de  Sancerre 
had,  with  some  difficulty,  succeeded  in  making  a 
landing  and  in  removing  his  precious  gun  and 
stores  to  the  shelter  of  the  underbrush.  He  had 
hardly  completed  his  task,  and  drawn  his  unre 
liable  craft  up  to  a  safe  mooring  upon  the  shore, 
when  the  unwelcome  storm  had  begun  to  fulfil 
its  threats. 

"  I  fear,"  exclaimed  de  Sancerre,  drawing  Dona 
254 


DONA   JULIA   REMINDED   OF   THE   PAST 

Julia  close  to  his  side,  as  they  strove  to  shelter 
themselves  from  the  rain  beneath  the  overhang 
ing  bushes  on  the  river-bank — "I  fear  our  supper 
will  be  cold  and  wet  to-night.  I  now  begin  to 
understand  just  why  those  white-robed  children 
of  the  sun  should  worship  lire.  You  tremble, 
ma  c/iere.  Tell  me,  are  you  cold?" 

"No,  no!"  exclaimed  Dona  Julia,  her  face 
close  to  his  to  defeat  the  uproar  of  the  rain. 
"The  storm  will  pass.  Ah,  senor,  what  cause 
we  have  for  gratitude !" 

Somewhere  in  the  forest  at  their  backs  the 
lightning  struck  a  tree  and  their  eyes  rested  for 
an  instant  upon  a  river  made  of  flames,  which  a 
crash  of  angry  thunder  extinguished  at  their 
birth. 

"Mother  Mary,  save  us!"  exclaimed  the  girl, 
while  the  hand  which  de  Sancerre  held  trembled 
for  an  instant  in  his  grasp. 

"  The  worst  has  passed,  sweetheart,"  he  mur 
mured,  reassuringly,  bending  down  until  his  lips 
touched  hers.  "  Listen !  The  rain  falls  lighter 
upon  the  leaves  above  us  now.  These  sudden 
storms  in  southern  lands  are  like  the — 

"  Si,  senor?" 

u  Like  the  anger  of  a  Spaniard,  I  had  said," 
confessed  de  Sancerre. 

"  Mayhap,"  murmured  the  girl,  her  eyes  meet 
ing  his  despite  the  blackness  of  the  gloom. 
255 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

"And  think  you,  sir,  they're  like  a  Spaniard's 
love?" 

"Mafoi,  how  can  I  tell?"  he  cried,  laughing 
ly.  "  You,  sefiora,  must  guide  me  to  the  truth. 
But  listen!"  he  went  on,  his  voice  growing  ear 
nest,  as,  forgetful  for  the  moment  of  the  storm 
and  perils  of  the  night,  he  gazed  down  upon  the 
upturned  face  of  a  maiden  who  had  shown  to 
him  the  unsuspected  depths  of  his  own  heart, 
"if  your  love  for  me  is  but  a  passing  fancy,  born 
of  solitude  and  taught  to  speak  by  chance,  I 
beg  of  you  to  pray  the  saints  that  I  may  die  to 
night.  To  live  to  lose  your  love —  I'd  choose 
a  thousand  deaths  instead !" 

In  the  girl's  dark  eyes  de  Sancerre  could  see  a 
protest  growing  as  he  spoke. 

"  ISTay,  senor,"  she  murmured,  turning  her 
gaze  from  his  to  watch  the  distant  lightning  as 
it  flashed  across  the  waters  from  the  black  clouds 
which  covered  the  storm's  retreat.  "  My  life 
has  been  so  strange  I  fear  I  may  not  speak  as 
other  maidens  would.  But  why  should  I  not 
confess  the  truth  ?  My  love  for  you  is  not  a 
forest  growth.  The  saints  forgive  me,  I  loved 
you  at  Versailles!  If  in  this  awful  wilderness 
you're  dearer  to  my  heart  than  when,  at  court, 
you  hurt  my  pride  and  showed  my  heart  itself, 
'tis  not  my  fickleness  which  is  at  fault.  I've 
loved  none  other,  senor,  in  my  life." 
256 


DONA   JULIA   REMINDED   OF  THE  PAST 

"  You  were  betrothed !"  exclaimed  de  Sancerre, 
impulsively,  a  man  rather  than  a  courtier  at  the 
moment. 

"  'Tis  a  story  for  another  hour  than  this,"  said 
Dona  Julia,  softly.  "  Don  Josef!  Mother  Mary 
be  good  to  him!  I  always  hated  him,  senor — 
although  my  hand  was  his.  But  look  how  the 
moon  breaks  through  above  those  clouds!  The 
storm  is  over,  and  the  night  grows  clear.  Shall 
we  launch  our  raft  again?  I  fear  the  forest, 
senor,  more  than  yonder  stream." 

" Nay,  I  dare  not  float  at  night,  ma  chere"  an 
swered  de  Sancerre,  smoothing  the  raven  hair 
from  her  white  forehead  as  her  head  rested  upon 
his  shoulder,  and  they  watched  the  fickle  night 
change  its  garb  of  black,  fringed  with  fire,  for 
the  silvery  costume  vouchsafed  by  the  full  moon. 
"I  fear  I  might  steal  past  my  captain  in  the 
dark." 

Suddenly  he  pressed  her  face,  splendid  in  its 
beauty  as  the  moon  caressed  it,  to  his  breast, 
while  he  gazed  across  his  shoulder  at  the  dripping 
forest  with  eyes  large  with  sudden  fear. 

"  God  in  heaven !     There  it  comes  again !" 

Against  his  will,  the  words  forced  themselves 
from  de  Sancerre's  parched  lips. 

"What  is  it,  senor?"  whispered  Dona  Julia, 
trembling  at  the  horror  in  his  voice. 

"A   white,  misshapen   thing,"    he   muttered, 

R  257 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

hoarsely.  "  I've  seen  it  once  before.  It  lies  upon 
the  ground  beneath  a  tree." 

They  neither  moved  nor  spoke  for  a  long 
moment.  De  Sancerre  strove  in  vain  to  rouse 
the  mocking  sceptic  in  his  mind.  Son  of  a 
superstitious  age,  he  could  not  conquer  the  idea 
that  he  was  haunted  in  the  wilds  by  the  lover  of 
this  girl,  whom  he  had  slain.  Presently,  as  he 
still  watched  the  white  blotch  beneath  the  weep 
ing  tree,  his  will  regained  its  strength  and  he 
exclaimed : 

"  Sit  here,  seriora.     I'll  go  to  it !" 

He  sprang  to  his  feet,  and,  on  the  instant,  Dona 
Julia  stood  by  his  side,  while  her  gaze  followed 
his  toward  the  spectral  outlines  of  an  out-stretched 
man,  motionless  and  ghastly  beneath  the  moon. 

"The  saints  protect  us!  You  shall  not  go 
alone!"  exclaimed  the  girl,  putting  an  icy  hand 
into  de  Sancerre's  grasp  and  taking  a  firm  step 
toward  the  mystery  which  tested  the  courage  of 
her  soul. 

"You  must  not  come  with  me,  sefiora,"  cried 
de  Sancerre,  budging  not  an  inch.  "  From  where 
you  stand  your  eyes  can  follow  me.  I  shall  return 
at  once." 

Keleasing  her  hand,  the  Frenchman  sprang 

forward,  and  in  another  moment  stood  gazing 

down  at  the  almost  naked  body  of  a  man  whose 

soul  at  that  very  instant  had  passed  from  this 

258 


DONA  JULIA  REMINDED   OF  THE   PAST 

world  to  the  next.  In  death  the  thin,  drawn  face 
regained  the  lines  of  youth,  but  on  the  head  the 
hair  was  white,  and  on  his  chin  a  tuft  of  beard 
gleamed  like  silver  in  the  moonlight.  There  was 
no  flesh  upon  his  bones.  The  night  wind  stirred 
the  rags  still  clinging  to  his  frame  and  tossed  an 
oil-skin  bag,  fastened  by  a  string  around  his  neck, 
across  his  chest.  A  crucifix  in  miniature  rested  at 
that  instant  just  above  his  heart. 

"Noin  de  Dieu,  it  is  a  Spaniard — but  not  the 
ghost  of  him  I  slew!"  exclaimed  de  Sancerre, 
breaking  away  from  the  horrid  spectacle  to  return 
to  Dona  Julia.  He  had  no  need  to  go,  for  the 
girl  was  at  his  side,  gazing  down  at  the  corpse 
with  horror-stricken  eyes. 

"  'Tis  Juan  Rodriquez !"  she  exclaimed,  in  a 
tone  which  voiced  a  conflict  of  emotions.  "  He 
goes  to  God  with  black,  foul  crimes  upon  his 
soul !" 

"Who  was  this  man,  senora?"  asked  de  San 
cerre  in  amazement,  drawing  the  girl  to  one  side 
out  of  the  insistent  glare  from  the  shrivelled 
corpse. 

"An  evil,  treacherous  creature,  sefior,  who 
served  my  father  as  a  scribe.  I  thought  that  he 
had  perished  with  the  others  in  the  ship.  I  spoke 
his  name  to-day,  when  I  told  you  the  story  of 
my  father's  awful  fate.  From  the  moment  of 
my  father's  fall,  until  I  found  myself  within  the 
259 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

City  of  the  Sun,  my  memory  is  dumb.  That  was 
a  year  ago  and  more.  The  man  who's  lying 
there  has  suffered  torments,  serior,  before  his 
time  was  ripe." 

"  He'd  lost  his  reason  and  become  a  beast," 
exclaimed  de  Sancerre,  shortly.  "  But  still  he 
was  from  Europe,  and  has  a  claim  upon  us !  I'll 
get  my  paddle  and  scratch  a  hole  to  hide  him 
from  the  wolves.  And  then  I'll  say  a  prayer, 
and  let  him  rest  in  peace." 

"  He  was  a  murderer !"  gasped  the  girl,  trem 
bling  with  cold  as  the  rising  breeze  forced  her 
damp  garments  against  her  weary  limbs. 

"  Ma  foi,  if  that  is  so,  our  prayers  are  little 
worth.  But  come,  che-rie,  there  is  less  wind  be 
neath  this  hill.  I  will  return  and  throw  some 
earth  above  those  bones.  If  that  white  fragment 
of  a  wicked  man  had  murdered  all  my  kin,  I 
would  not  leave  him  there  uncovered  for  all  time. 
He  came  from  lands  we  know — and  so  I'll  treat 
him  well !  God,  how  I  shall  welcome  the  sight 
of  delaSalle!" 

With  quick  sympathy  the  girl  put  her  hand 
upon  de  Sancerre's  arm  as  they  turned  their 
faces  toward  the  glimmering  flood. 

"  A  woman  is  so  useless,  senor!"  she  exclaimed, 
"  I  can  do  naught  but  pray !  But  show  me  how 
I  best  may  aid  you  now.  I  will  try  so  hard !" 

"  You  know  not  what  you  say,  senora !"  cried 
260 


DONA  JULIA   REMINDED   OF   THE   PAST 

cle  Sancerre  in  Spanish,  clasping  the  cold  hand 
resting  upon  his  arm  as  he  led  her  toward  the 
river.  "  Useless,  quotha  ?  Is  a  woman  useless 
who  teaches  a  wayward,  rebellious,  mocking 
heart  the  peace  and  glory  of  true  love  ?  I  say 
to  you,  my  Julia,  that  as  Mother  Mary  is  greater 
than  the  saints,  so  is  a  good  woman  better  than 
the  best  of  men." 

Then  he  added,  smiling  gayly  as  his  happy 
eyes  met  her  earnest  gaze,  and  changing  his 
tongue  to  French :  "  Not,  chene,  that  I  am  the 
best  of  men !" 

"  You  are  to  me !  Is  not  that  enough  ?"  she 
murmured,  in  a  tone  which  made  sweet  music  to 
his  ears. 

A  half  an  hour  had  passed  and  de  Sancerre 
had  returned  to  the  girl  from  his  grewsome  task 
as  a  grave-digger.  The  awful  fate  of  the  mur 
derer  to  whom  he  had  given  hasty  burial  de 
pressed  his  spirits,  for  the  dead  man  had  borne  upon 
his  emaciated  frame  the  marks  of  his  long  year 
of  misery,  a  year  during  which  he  had  wandered 
through  the  wilds  in  a  great  circle,  until  hunger 
and  exposure  had  made  him  a  mad,  crawling 
animal,  too  long  despised  by  death  itself. 

"  There  were  papers  in  this  oil-skin  bag,"  re 
marked  de  Sancerre,  throwing  himself  wearily 
upon  the  bank  beside  Dona  Julia.  "As  he  was 
secretary  to  your  father,  I  thought  it  best  to 
261 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

examine  what  he  had  kept  so  safe  upon  his  breast. 
It  was  not  wrong,  ma  chere?" 

The  girl's  face  was  even  paler  than  its  wont 
was,  as  she  met  her  lover's  questioning  eyes. 
Her  lips  trembled  slightly  as  she  said : 

"  He  boasted  once,  upon  our  vessel's  deck,  that 
he'd  be  master  when  we  reached  New  Spain. 
Our  king  had  granted  lands  and  silver  mines  in 
Mexico  to  my  dear  father,  rewarding  him  for  his 
success  in  France.  'Tis  possible — " 

An  exclamation  uttered  by  de  Sancerre  inter 
rupted  Dona  Julia's  surmise.  The  Frenchman 
had  been  examining  two  imposing  parchments 
by  the  clear  light  of  the  full  moon. 

"  Your  father's  scribe,  senora,  was  a  man  of  fer 
tile  mind.  King  Charles  of  Spain  has  made  two 
grants  covering  the  same  ground,  one  to  his  'dear, 
beloved  son  in  Christ,  Don  Kodrigo  de  Aquilar,' 
and  the  other  to  his  '  dear,  beloved  son  in  Christ, 
Don  Juan  Eodriquez.'  'Tis  clear  enough  that 
one  of  these  is  forged,  but,  for  my  life,  I  could 
not  pick  the  honest  parchment  from  the  false. 
Why  yonder  villain  kept  them  both,  I  do  not 
understand." 

"  I  think  I  know,"  mused  the  girl,  in  a  weary 
voice.  "  He  thought  less  of  robbery  than  how 
to  make  me  his.  He  would  have  torn  this  skil 
ful  counterfeit  into  a  thousand  bits  had  I  been 
kind  to  him." 

262 


DONA  JULIA  REMINDED   OF  THE   PAST 

"  Nom  de  Dieu  !   He  dared  to — " 

Dona  Julia  glanced  chidingly  at  the  impetuous 
Frenchman. 

"You  spoke  not  harshly  of  him  when  I  told 
you  of  his  awful  crimes,"  she  said,  while  her 
hand  crept  shyly  into  de  Sancerre's.  "  Is  he  less 
worthy  of  your  leniency  because  he  schemed  to 
win  the  hand  you  hold  ?" 

"'Tis  selfishness,  I  know,"  said  de  Sancerre, 
thoughtfully,  gazing  contentedly  into  the  dark 
eyes  which  met  his.  "I  cared  but  little  that 
he'd  killed  some  man  I  never  knew,  but  if  he 
loved  you,  senora,  I'm  glad  he  died  the  death !" 
Seizing  the  forged  parchment  upon  his  lap,  the 
Frenchman  tore  it  to  pieces  and  scattered  the 
fragments  upon  the  ground.  Then  he  replaced 
the  genuine  grant  in  the  oil-skin  bag  and  fastened 
it  to  his  s \vord-belt. 

" I  must  repair  my  raft,  ma  chere"  he  said  to 
the  girl  a  moment  later,  bending  down  to  kiss 
her  cheek,  cold  and  smooth  and  white.  "  You 
will  forgive  me,  sweetheart,  for  loving  you  so 
well  ?" 

Not  far  away  the  moonlight,  falling  in  soft 
radiance  between  the  trees,  had  thrown  upon  a 
rough  grave,  newly-made,  the  shadow  of  a  cross. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 
IN   WHICH   ST.  EUSTACE   IS   KIND   TO   DE   SANCEEKE 

OVERLOOKING  the  waters  of  the  great  river,  as 
they  met  and  mingled  with  the  waves  of  a  lonely 
sea,  stood  a  wooden  column  beside  a  wooden 
cross.  Almost  hidden  by  the  shadow  of  the 
pompous  pillar,  the  cross,  unmarked  by  hand  of 
man,  made  no  open  claim  to  power,  but  awaited 
patiently  the  outcome  of  the  years.  Upon  the 
column  had  been  inscribed  the  words : 

Louis  le  Grand,  Roy  de  France  et  de  Navarre,  regne ;  le 
Neuvteme  Avril,  1682. 

Now  and  then  the  King's  Column  would  ap 
pear  to  hold  converse  with  the  Cross  of  Christ, 
for  it  was  a  weary  vigil  which  they  kept,  and  the 
lofty  pillar,  haughtily  displaying  the  arms  of 
France,  was  forced,  from  very  loneliness,  to 
recognize  the  humble  emblem  at  its  base. 

Through  long,  sunny  days   and  soft,  moonlit 

nights  the  salt  breeze  from  the  sea  heard  the 

royal  column  boasting  to  the  lowly  cross.     By 

virtue  of  the  legend  upon  its   breast,  said  the 

264 


ST.  EUSTACE  KIND  TO  DE  SANCERRE 

King's  Pillar,  a  great  monarch  had  gained  a 
vast  domain.  Savannas,  forests,  prairies,  deserts, 
rivers,  lakes,  and  mountains,  forming  a  gigantic 
province,  had  become,  through  a  word  uttered 
by  a  great  explorer,  the  property  of  him  whose 
name  the  wooden  column  bore.  Through  all  the 
oncoming  ages,  the  King's  Pillar  asserted,  Louis 
le  Grand,  Roy  de  France  et  de  Navarre,  and  his 
posterity,  would  own  the  fair  lands  through 
which  a  mighty  river  and  its  tributaries  flowed. 
It  was  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  stately 
column  grew  vain  with  the  grandeur  of  its 
mission  upon  earth,  and  even  garrulous  at  times, 
as  i«t  described  to  the  insignificant  cross  the 
splendor  of  the  dreams  which  a  glowing  future 
vouchsafed  to  it. 

The  Cross  of  Christ  would  listen  in  silence  to 
the  mouthings  of  the  feoyal  Claimant,  gazing 
further  into  the  future,  with  a  clearer  vision 
than  the  proud  pillar,  whose  words  were  those 
of  men  blinded  by  the  intoxication  of  transient 
power.  The  unpretentious  cross  could  well  afford 
to  indulge  in  the  luxury  of  silence.  Since  it  had 
first  become  a  symbol  of  the  power  which  is  be 
gotten  by  the  teachings  of  humility  and  love,  it 
had  heard,  a  thousand  times,  the  boastful  words 
of  monarchs  swollen  with  the  glory  of  ephemeral 
success.  It  had  seen  emperors  and  kings  seizing 
lands  and  peoples  to  hold  them  in  subjection 
265 


AVITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

until  time  should  be  no  more.  But  the  centuries 
had  come  and  gone,  and  the  banners  of  earthly 
kings,  rising  and  falling,  had  pressed  onward 
and  been  driven  back.  Only  the  cross,  emblem 
of  peace  on  earth  and  good  will  to  men,  had, 
through  those  same  ages,  steadily  enlarged  the 
dominion  over  which  its  gentle  rule  prevailed. 
Carried  forward  often  by  fanatics  and  made  to 
serve  the  ends  of  cruel  hearts,  it  was,  in  spite  of 
all  the  errors  of  its  followers,  slowly  but  surely 
receiving  the  earth  for  its  heritage  and  mankind 
as  the  reward  of  its  benignity. 

One  afternoon,  late  in  the  month  of  May,  a 
man,  pale,  dejected,  moving  with  the  heavy  step 
of  one  who  had  undergone  great  bodily  fatigue, 
led  a  maiden,  upon  whose  white  face  lay  the 
shadow  of  a  weariness  against  which  youth  could 
not  prevail,  toward  the  King's  Column.  Ke- 
moving  his  bonnet  from  a  head  grown  gray 
from  recent  hardships,  the  man,  releasing  the 
girl's  hand,  bent  a  knee  before  the  proud  em 
blem  of  his  sovereign.  At  the  same  moment 
the  maiden  knelt  down  before  the  cross,  and, 
weeping  softly,  breathed  a  prayer  to  a  Mother 
whose  Son  had  died  for  men. 

Presently  the  girl  arose  and,  followed  by  him 

who  had  paid  his  tribute  to  the  fleeting  power 

of  kings,  skirted  the  royal  column,  and  seated 

herself  upon  a  mound  of  sand  from  which  she 

266 


ST.  EUSTACE  KIND  TO  DE  SANCERRE 

could  sweep,  with  her  dark,  mournful  eyes,  the 
expanse  of  a  gulf  new  to  the  keel  of  ships. 
Stretching  before  her  as  if  it  knew  no  bounds 
lay  a  great  water,  an  awful  waste  of  sun-kissed, 
dancing  waves,  whose  glittering  splendor  brought 
no  solace  to  her  heavy  heart. 

"  It  is  a  mystery  which  I  cannot  fathom,"  said 
de  Sancerre,  mournfully,  throwing  himself  down 
by  Dona  Julia's  side  and  gazing  up  at  her  sad, 
sweet  face  with  eyes  heavy  from  a  disappoint 
ment  which  had  crushed,  for  the  time  being,  the 
fond  hopes  which  had  inspired  him  through  long 
days  of  labor  and  nights  of  wakeful  vigilance. 
"  The  good  faith  of  the  stern,  upright  de  la  Salle 
I  cannot  doubt.  He  would  jeopardize  his  life, 
and  all  his  mighty  projects,  to  rescue  a  comrade 
to  whom  his  word  was  pledged.  We  must  have 
passed  him  somewhere  in  the  twilight  of  the  dawn 
or  when  I  used  the  sunset's  glow  too  long." 

"  What  seemeth  best  to  do,  senor  ?"  asked  the 
girl,  turning  her  gaze  from  the  cruel  sea  to  look 
into  the  face  of  a  man  upon  whose  courage  and 
resourcefulness  she  had  good  reason  to  rely. 

"Mafoi,  I  hardly  know,"  muttered  the  French 
man,  looking  about  him  upon  the  scattered  rem 
nants  of  de  la  Salle's  encampment.  "My  cap 
tain  may  return — but  'twill  be  a  weary  while  ere 
he  comes  back.  A  year,  at  least,  must  pass  be 
fore  he  reaches  here  again.  We  stand  in  no 
267 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

great  danger  from  starvation,  but  'tis  a  lonely 
shore.  I  thought  to  lead  you  from  captivity, 
and,  lo !  I've  merely  changed  your  cabin-prison 
to  a  sandy  jail !  I  fear  St.  Maturin  has  turned 
his  face  from  me !" 

"Be  not  cast  down,  senor,"  whispered  Dona 
Julia,  in  her  native  tongue.  "  It  cannot  be  that 
Mother  Mary,  who  has  been  most  kind  to  us, 
will  leave  us  here  to  die." 

"'T would  be  unreasonable,"  exclaimed  de  San- 
cerre,  almost  petulantly.  Then  he  went  on,  mak 
ing  an  effort  at  cheerfulness.  "  But,  for  the  pres 
ent,  we  have  no  cause  to  lose  all  hope.  This 
desert  shore  seems  safe  from  savage  men.  My 
musket  there  will  gain  us  meat  enough,  and  in 
the  forest  there  are  fruits  and  berries  fit  for  royal 
boards.  In  sooth,  'le  Roy  de  France  et  de  Na 
varre'  has  won  a  kingdom  rich  in  all  good 
things." 

"  We're  safe  from  savage  men,  you  say,  senor," 
remarked  Dona  Julia,  musingly,  casting  a  mean 
ing  glance  behind  her  at  the  silent  woods.  "I 
fear  you  do  not  understand  the  nation  which  we 
have  defied."  She  smiled  sadly  as  she  went  on : 
"  You  have  abducted  Coyocop,  a  goddess  sent 
from  heaven  to  make  their  people  great.  Al 
though  your  musket  filled  them  with  dismay, 
they'll  follow  us." 

The  lines  of  care  upon  de  Sancerre's  drawn 
208 


ST.  EUSTACE  KIND  TO  DE  SANCERRE 

face  grew  deeper  as  he  listened  thoughtfully  to 
the  girl's  words. 

"  We've  left  no  trail,"  he  mused,  gazing  long 
ingly  at  the  horizon  where  the  sea-line  met 

o  «/ 

the  sky.  "  They're  keen  as  woodsmen,  but  the 
river  tells  no  tales.  But,  mayhap,  you  are  right ! 
You've  known  them  long  and  heard  the  sun- 
priests  talk.  And  if  the  worst  should  come,  ma 
chere,  I'd  die  for  you  with  sword  and  gun  in 
hand  beneath  the  blazoned  arms  of  France. 
'T would  be  a  fitting  ending  for  a  count  of 
Languedoc." 

"  Speak  not  so  sadly,  senor,"  exclaimed  Dona 
Julia,  placing  a  gentle  hand  upon  his  shoulder 
and  looking  into  his  face  with  courageous,  hope 
ful  eyes.  "  I  sought  not  to  dishearten  you,  but 
'tis  well  for  you  to  know  the  truth.  To  linger 
where  we  are  is  far  from  safe." 

"That  may  be  so,"  admitted  de  Sancerre,  re 
flectively,  as  he  examined  the  lock  of  his  musket 
and  then  stood  erect  to  cast  a  searching  glance 
across  sea  and  land.  The  restless  billows  of  the 
gulf,  the  marshy  coast,  the  islands  at  the  river's 
mouth,  and  the  grim  forest  overlooking  the 
waters,  formed  a  picture  which  human  gaze  had 
seldom  swept.  At  this  moment  the  outlook  held 
no  menace  to  the  eyes  or  ears  of  de  Sancerre. 
"  To  linger  where  we  are,  sefiora,  may  not  be 
safe,"  he  remarked,  as  he  reseated  himself  and 

269 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

took  her  hand  in  his,  "  but  where  'tis  best  to  go 
I  hardly  know.  Our  raft  will  not  float  up-stream, 
and  we  cannot  put  to  sea.  We  have  not  much 
to  choose!  Between  this  hillock  and  the  next 
there  can  be  no  great  difference  in  the  perils 
which  surround  us.  And,  somehow,  senora,  I 
feel  nearer  to  my  captain  with  the  arms  of 
France  above  my  head." 

Dona  Julia  pressed  de  Sancerre's  hand  and  her 
quick  sympathy  shone  in  her  dark  eyes. 
"  Your  captain,  senor — you  loved  him  ?" 
"De  la  Salle?  I  know  not  that  I  loved  him. 
But  I  would  have  followed  him  to  hell!  There 
is  a  grandeur  in  my  captain's  soul  which  draws 
to  him  the  little  men  and  makes  them  great. 
Aye,  senora,  by  all  succeeding  ages  the  name  of 
him  who  raised  this  wooden  column,  against 
which  we  lean,  in  honor  must  be  held !  The 
deeds  of  de  la  Salle  shall  live,  when  the  feats  of 
countless  noisy  boasters  are  forgotten.  But,  that 
I  loved  this  mighty  leader  I  cannot  say.  I've 
served  in  Europe  under  lesser  men  than  de  la 
Salle,  who  led  me  by  the  heart ;  while  he,  me- 
thinks,  appeals  but  to  my  head.  He  rules  us  not 
with  velvet,  but  with  steel,  this  dauntless  cap 
tain,  upon  whose  martial  figure  I  would  that  I 
might  gaze.  And  that  is  best,  in  such  a  land  as 
this !  Followed  by  red-men  and  wild,  border  out 
laws,  he  could  not  hold  them  should  he  smile 
270 


ST.  EUSTACE  KIND  TO  DE  SANCERRE 

and  scrape.  And,  at  the  best,  he  cannot  trust 
his  men.  They  grumble  at  their  captain,  be 
cause  he  has  no  weakness  in  their  eyes." 

De  Sancerre's  long  speech,  to  which  Dona  Julia 
had  listened  with  forced  attention,  had  changed 
the  melancholy  current  of  his  thoughts  and  re 
stored  the  lines  of  firmness  to  his  mouth,  the 
light  of  courage  to  his  eyes.  The  memory  of 
the  bold  adventurer  under  whom  he  had  served 
for  many  months,  and  the  inspiring  legend  which 
he  had  read  and  reread  upon  the  column  at  his 
back,  had  revived  the  martial  spirit  in  his  im 
pressionable  soul,  and  his  face  and  voice  no  longer 
bore  evidence  of  the  bitter  disappointment  which 
had  driven  him  to  the  verge  of  despair  when  he 
had  made  the  discovery  that  Sieur  de  la  Salle 
had  abandoned  his  camp  at  the  Mississippi's 
mouth.  With  gun  in  hand,  the  Frenchman  stood 
erect. 

"Listen,  ma  chere,  for  I  crave  your  counsel 
and  advice,"  he  said,  gazing  down  at  Dona  Julia. 
"  We  may  be  here  for  months  before  we  find  a 
means  of  rescue,  either  by  land  or  sea.  We're 
worn  with  sleeplessness  and  toil,  but,  more  than 
this,  our  bodies  crave  strong  food.  We've  eaten 
meal  and  berries  until  I  dream  of  Yatel  when  I 
doze  —  great  Conde's  cook,  who  killed  himself 
because  a  dish  was  spoiled.  My  gun  could  add 
a  fat  wild-turkey  to  our  larder ;  but  the  point 
271 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

is  this :  the  musket's  noise  might  lead  our  dusky 
enemies  to  seek  us  here.  I  feared  not  their  per 
sistence  'til  you  spoke  of  it.  This  column  -and 
the  arms  it  bears  would  make  no  great  impres 
sion  upon  our  foes." 

"  Our  only  hope  must  lie  in  yonder  cross,"  mur 
mured  Dona  Julia,  devoutly.  Then  she  gazed 
upward  at  the  thin,  white  face  of  a  man  who 
might  well  call  himself  at  this  moment  "  a  splin 
ter  from  a  moonbeam,"  so  thin  and  white  he 
looked.  The  horror  of  her  situation,  should  her 
brave  protector  fall  sick  from  lack  of  nourish 
ing  food,  forced  itself  impressively  upon  her 
mind. 

"  'Twill  do  no  harm,  seilor,"  she  went  on,  "  for 
you  to  snap  your  gun.  In  any  case,  our  enemies, 
if  they  are  still  upon  our  track,  would  find  us 
here,  and  if  they  hear  your  musket's  loud  report, 
'twill  check  them  for  a  time.  They'll  think  the 
woods  are  haunted  with  demons  threatening 
them." 

"Mafoi,  they  would  be,  had  I  the  magic  which 
I  claim !"  exclaimed  de  Sancerre,  examining  care 
fully  the  priming  of  his  gun.  "  I  think,  seiiora, 
that  what  you  say  is  true.  If  those  brown  devils 
are  now  upon  our  trail,  our  silence  cannot  save 
us.  St.  Eustace  be  my  guide !  We'll  break  our 
fast  at  sunset,  sweetheart,  upon  a  bit  of  meat. 
I'll  not  go  out  of  sight.  I've  wasted  too  much 
272 


ST.  EUSTACE  KIND  TO  DE  SANCERRE 

time,  for  we  must  choose  a  lodging  for  the  night 
before  the  dark  has  come." 

Reinvigorated  in  mind  and  body,  de  Sancerre 
descended  the  hillock  from  which  the  King's  Col 
umn  and  the  Cross  of  Christ  looked  down  upon 
an  empire  over  which  the  reign  of  the  proud 
pillar  was  not  destined  to  endure.  With  eyes 
raised  to  heaven,  Dona  Julia  knelt  before  the 
humble  emblem  of  her  faith,  and  besought  the 
saints  to  guard  her  champion  from  the  perils 
which  might  at  this  moment  beset  his  steps. 
Then  she  arose,  and,  leaning  against  the  wooden 
monument,  watched,  with  ever-growing  interest, 
the  versatile  Frenchman's  efforts  to  satisfy  his 
craving  for  a  more  nourishing  diet  than  his  la 
bors  as  a' raftsman  had  permitted  him  to  gain. 

"Peste!"  muttered  de  Sancerre,  as  he  made 
his  way  through  the  long  grass  toward  the 
forest  trees,  "this  musket  is  heavier  by  many 
pounds  than  when  the  good  St.  Maturin  turned 
my  footsteps  toward  it.  Unless  your  bullet,  ma 
petite,  should  find  its  way  to  yonder  sieek,  but 
most  unsuspicious,  banquet,  I  fear  you'll  grow 
too  weighty  for  my  hands.  Laude  et  jubilate  ! 
The  bird  is  mine !" 

De  Sancerre  turned  and  waved  his  ragged  bon 
net  toward  Dona  Julia,  who  had  witnessed  the 
success  of  his  shot,  and  then,  leisurely  reloading 
his  musket,  made  his  way  toward  the  precious 
s  273 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

trophy  of  his  marksmanship.  Suddenly  he  stood 
stock-still,  his  head  thrown  back,  and  his  eyes 
staring  at  the  forest  in  amazement.  As  if  in 
answer  to  his  gun's  report,  there  came  from  the 
distant  trees  the  echo  of  a  musket-shot,  which 
thrilled  the  soul  of  the  startled  Frenchman  with 
mingled  hope  and  fear. 

"  St.  Maturin  help  me !"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  voice 
suggesting  a  parched  throat.  "  Is  it  friend  or 
foe  ?  I  thought,  ma  petite,  that  you  had  no  kins 
man  within  the  radius  of  many  miles." 

Striving  by  gestures  to  urge  Dona  Julia  to 
conceal  herself  behind  the  King's  Column,  de 
Sancerre,  with  his  musket  at  his  shoulder,  stretch 
ed  himself  at  full  length  upon  the  grass,  and, 
while  his  heart  beat  with  suffocating  rapidity, 
watched  with  straining  eyes  a  grove  of  leafy 
trees  from  which  the  ominous  reply  to  his  gun 
had  been  made.  Suddenly  in  front  of  him,  al 
most  within  a  stone's-throw,  stood  a  tall,  slen 
der  man,  clad  in  the  unseasonable  costume  of  a 
Canadian  coureur  de  bois.  He  carried  a  smok 
ing  musket  in  his  hand.  At  his  belt  dangled  a 
hatchet,  a  bullet -pouch,  and  a  bag  of  tobacco. 
In  a  leather  case  at  his  neck  hung  his  only  per 
manent  friend,  his  pipe. 

"  St.  Maturin  be  praised !"  cried  de  Sancerre, 
springing  to  his  feet  and  raising  his  musket 
to  arm's -length  above  his  head.  "'Tis  that 
274 


ST.  EUSTACE  KIND  TO  DE  SANCERRE 


rebellious  rascal,  Jacques  Barbier! 

Jacques  !     In  the  name  of  all  the  saints  at  once, 

how  came  you  here  ?" 

"Gar!"  exclaimed  the  lawless  runner-of-the- 
woods,  throwing  himself  at  full  length  upon  the 
grass,  and  gazing  up  at  de  Sancerre  with  a  smile, 
hard  to  analyze,  upon  his  sun  -  burned,  hand 
some,  self-willed  face.  "  It  is  Monsieur  le  Comte  ! 
My  eyes  are  quick,  monsieur.  I  do  not  wonder 
that  you  stayed  behind." 

Displaying  his  white  teeth  mischievously,  the 
coureur  de  bois,  a  deserter  from  de  la  Salle's 
band  of  Indians  and  outcasts,  waved  a  brown 
hand  toward  the  King's  Column. 

Hot  with  anger  at  the  insolence  of  the  outlaw 
though  he  was,  de  Sancerre  controlled  his  temper 
and  said  calmly,  but  in  a  tone  of  voice  which  had 
a  restraining  effect  upon  the  bushranger: 

"  'Tis  a  long  story,  Jacques!  I  found  a  Spanish 
princess  in  a  city  built  by  devils.  You've  come 
to  me  in  time  to  take  a  hand  in  a  merry  little  war 
bet  ween  the  sun  and  moon.  No,  Jacques  !  You're 
wrong.  I  can  read  your  mind  at  once.  You 
think  the  wilderness  has  robbed  me  of  my  wits. 
But  come  !  There  is  much  to  do,  and  I  must 
question  you  about  my  captain  and  why  I  find 
you  here  alone.  Bring  that  nut-fattened  turkey 
up  the  hill,  and  we  will  work  and  talk  and  make 
what  plans  we  may." 

275 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

The  outlaw,  whose  life  had  been  one  long  pro 
test  against  the  authority  of  other  men,  arose 
from,  the  ground,  with  lazy  nonchalance,  and 
gazed  down  at  the  wild-fowl  which  de  Sancerre 
had  shot.  The  Frenchman  had  turned  away 
and  was  breaking  his  path  through  the  long,  dry 
grass  toward  the  crest  of  the  hill,  from  which 
Dona  Julia  had  been  watching  a  rencontre  the 
outcome  of  which  she  had  no  way  of  predicting. 

Jacques  Barbier  gazed  alternately  upward  at 
the  retreating  figure  of  de  Sancerre  and  down 
ward  at  the  wild  turkey  at  his  feet.  Then,  with 
a  protesting  smile  upon  his  symmetrical,  but  half- 
savage,  face,  he  bent  down  and  raised  the  fat 
fowl  to  his  shoulder  and  followed  Monsieur  le 
Comte  toward  the  King's  Column.  De  Sancerre 
had  gained  for  a  time — short  or  long,  as  the  case 
might  be — an  ally  whose  woodcraft  was  as  brill 
iant  as  his  lawlessness  was  incorrigible. 

"  Jubilate^  seriora"  cried  the  count,  as  he  ap 
proached  Dona  Julia.  "The  saints  have  been 
more  than  kind!  They  have  filled  our  larder, 
doubled  our  fighting  force,  and  made  me  younger 
by  ten  years.  But,  senora,  'tis  not  a  pious  friend 
whom  I  have  found !  This  same  Jacques  Barbier's 
a  devil,  in  his  way.  Wear  this,  my  dagger,  at 
your  waist,  ma  chere!  I  know  that  you  dare  use 
it,  should  the  need  arise." 


CHAPTER   XXVm 


IN  WHICH  DE  SANCEKRE'S  ISLAND  is  BESIEGED 


"  Pardieu,  Monsieur  le  Comte,  I'll  ne'er  forget 
the  scene!"  remarked  Jacques  Barbier,  puffing 
his  pipe  and  lazily  watching  the  smoke  as  the 
evening  breeze  tore  it  into  shreds.  Nearly  a 
month  had  passed  since  the  coureur  de  ~bois,  with 
a  wild  turkey,  had  helped  to  make  a  single  shot 
from  de  Sancerre's  musket  worth  its  expenditure 
of  powder  and  ball.  During  that  period,  Jacques 
Barbier,  obedient,  docile,  knowing  every  secret 
of  the  woods  and  waters,  had  been  a  source  of 
never-ending  comfort  to  the  French  count.  With 
a  tactf  ulness  which  he  would  have  been  incom 
petent  to  employ  a  year  before  this  crisis,  de 
Sancerre  had  attached  the  Canadian  youth  to  his 
fortunes  without  arousing  the  restless,  reckless 
spirit  of  revolt  which  made  a  coureur  de  lois, 
in  those  wild  times,  an  unreliable  ally  and  a  mu 
tinous  subordinate. 

There  were,  however,  other  things  besides  de 
Sancerre's  diplomacy  which  had  tended  to  keep 
Jacques  Barbier  contented  with  his  lot  for  the 
277 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

time  being.  The  necessity  for  obtaining  food 
without  betraying  their  hiding-place  to  savage 
men,  hot  upon  their  trail,  had  taxed  the  Canadian's 
ingenuity  and  had  aroused  his  pride  as  a  woods 
man.  He  had  listened  with  close  attention  to 
de  Sancerre's  tale,  and  had  agreed  with  Dona 
Julia  that  the  sun- worshippers  would  not  abandon 
the  quest  of  their  goddess  as  long  as  their  re 
sources  for  her  pursuit  held  out.  By  Barbier's 
advice  and  assistance,  de  Sancerre  had  erected 
two  small  huts  upon  an  insignificant  island  in 
the  western  branch  of  the  great  river's  mouth, 
and  here  they  had  passed  several  weeks  in  peace 
and  plenty,  weeks  which  had  restored  brilliancy 
to  Dona  Julia's  eyes  and  color  to  her  cheeks  and 
lips,  while  they  had  revived  her  champion's  spirits 
and  had  brought  back  mincing  lightness  to  his 
step  and  gayety  to  his  ready  smile. 

Their  retreat  had  not  been  invaded  by  the 
degenerate  savages  along  the  river-banks.  Now 
and  then  they  would  catch  a  glimpse  upon  the 
river  of  a  distant  canoe  in  which  copper-colored 
sportsmen  were  attempting  to  lure  the  ugly  cat 
fish  from  the  muddy  waters  of  the  turgid  stream, 
and  once,  far  to  the  northward,  they  observed  a 
war -canoe  putting  out  fro  HI  the  eastern  shore 
and  urged  up-stream  by  paddles  which  glistened 
in  the  sunlight. 

Once  in  awhile,  Jacques  Barbier  would  return 

278 


DE    SANCERRE'S    ISLAND    BESIEGED 

from  the  forest,  laden  with  game-birds,  to  tell  a 
highly-colored  story  of  redmen  whose  keen  eyes 
he  had  avoided  through  the  potency  of  his  mar 
vellous  woodcraft.  But  the  month  of  June, 
known  to  the  sun-worshippers  as  the  moon  of 
watermelons,  had  reached  a  ripe  age,  and  the 
island's  refugees  found  themselves  well-housed, 
well-fed,  and  free,  as  far  as  the}^  could  observe, 
from  the  machinations  of  cruel  foes.  Sanguine 
by  temperament  and  easily  influenced  by  his 
environment,  de  Sancerre  had  put  himself  into 
opposition  to  the  belief,  held  by  Dona  Julia  and 
Jacques  Barbier,  that  the  sun-priests  and  their 
tools  would  descend  to  the  gulf,  by  land  or  water, 
in  search  of  Coyocop.  He  had  eliminated  from 
his  mind  the  thought  of  peril  at  his  back  and 
had  turned  his  face  toward  the  sea,  thinking 
only  of  succor  from  a  passing  ship. 

It  was  with  the  hope  that  European  sailors 
would  come  to  them  from  the  gulf  that  de  San 
cerre  had  fastened  a  piece  of  white  canvas,  which 
he  had  found  among  the  debris  of  de  la  Salle's 
encampment,  to  the  top  of  the  King's  Column. 
From  where  he  sat  at  twilight  in  front  of  the 
rude  hut  occupied  by  Jacques  Barbier  and  him 
self,  de  Sancerre  could  look  across  the  narrow 
streak  of  water  between  his  island  and  the  main 
land  and  see  his  signal  of  distress  flapping  lazily 
in  the  evening  breeze.  Now  and  then  the  bright, 
279 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

restless  eyes  of  the  coureur  de  bois  would  rest 
protestingly  upon  the  white  flag.  To  his  mind, 
the  rag  was  more  likely  to  bring  upon  them 
enemies  from  the  woods  than  friends  from  the 
lonely  sea.  Jacques  Barbier  hated  the  ocean  with 
an  intensity  only  equalled  by  the  fervor  of  his 
love  for  the  forest  wilds. 

On  the  evening  to  which  reference  is  now  made, 
the  coureur  de  bois  had  grown  unwontedly  lo 
quacious,  as  he  smoked  his  evening  pipe,  and 
glanced  alternately  at  Dona  Julia  and  de  Sancerre, 
as,  hand  clasped  in  hand,  they  listened  to  the 
usually  taciturn  Canadian's  account  of  the  cere 
monies  attending  the  erection  of  the  King's  Col 
umn  and  the  Cross  of  Christ. 

"Pardieu,  Monsieur  le  Comte,  I'll  ne'er  forget 
the  scene!  We,  that  is  your  countrymen  and 
mine,  were  mustered  under  arms,  while  behind 
us  stood  the  Mohicans  and  Abenakis,  with  the 
squaws  and  pappooses  whom  they  had  brought 
with  them  to  make  trouble  for  us  all.  Pere 
Membre,  in  full  canonicals,  looking  like  a  saint 
just  come  to  earth  from  Paradise,  intoned  a  Latin 
chant.  Then  we  all  raised  our  voices  and  sang  a 

hymn : 

"'The  banners  of  Heaven's  King  advance, 
The  mystery  of  the  Cross  shines  forth.' 

The  Mohicans  and  Abenakis  grunted  with  excite 
ment  and  the  pappooses  yelled.  'Vive  le  RoiT 

280 


DE    SANCERRE'S    ISLAND    BESIEGED 

we  shouted,  to  drown  their  clatter,  and  then 
your  captain — may  the  devil  fly  away  with  his 
surly  tongue! — raised  his  voice  and  claimed  for 
the  King  of  France  and  Navarre  possession  of 
'this  country  of  Louisiana'  —  with  the  right  to 
put  a  tax  upon  every  peltry  which  we  poor 
trappers  take.  Gar,  it  is  no  wonder,  Monsieur 
le  Comte,  that  we  who  risk  our  lives  within  the 
woods  should  feel  small  reverence  for  a  king  so 
far  away,  whose  harsh  enactments  have  made  us 
outlaws  in  the  land  where  we  were  born.  May 
hap,  monsieur,  you  have  good  cause  to  love  the 
King  of  France !  In  that,  you  differ  from  Jacques 
Barbier." 

Dona  Julia  felt  de  Sancerre's  hand  grow  cold 
in  hers  and  heard  him  mutter  something  beneath 
his  breath,  the  burden  of  which  she  did  not  catch. 
The  truth  was  that  the  random  shot  of  the 
coureur  de  bois  had  touched  the  French  count  in 
a  sensitive  spot.  What  better  reason  had  he  for 
loyalty  to  the  Tyrant  of  Versailles  than  this 
vagabond  of  the  woods,  who,  even  in  the  most 
remote  corners  of  a  trackless  wilderness,  still  felt 
the  sinister  influence  of  a  selfish  despotism  exer 
cising  a  wide-spread  cruelty  begotten  of  egotism 
and  bigotry?  Had  not  de  Sancerre  known  the 
fickleness  of  royal  smiles  and  frowns,  the  ingrat 
itude  of  a  monarch  who,  at  the  instigation  of  a 
priesthood,  could  sacrifice  a  brave  and  loyal 
281 


WITH    SWORD   AND    CRUCIFIX 

subject  without  granting  him  a  chance  to  speak 
a  word  in  his  own  defence? 

"  In  good  sooth,"  murmured  de  Sancerre  to 
himself,  uhis  tongue  has  cut  me  deep!  What 
cause  have  I  to  love  the  King  of  France?  I 
knelt  in  homage  at  his  column  there,  but 
methinks  my  knee  and  not  my  heart  paid  trib 
ute  to  le  Grand  Monarque!  Somehow,  this 
mighty  wilderness  makes  rebels  of  us  all!  Ma 
foi,  Jacques  Barbier,"  he  cried  aloud,  "  what  is 
it  that  you  see  ?" 

The  coureur  de  ~bois  had  sprung  to  his  feet  and 
was  sweeping  the  shore  of  the  main-land  with  a 
quick,  piercing  glance  which  cut  through  the 
darkness  which  the  moon,  soon  to  show  itself  in 
the  east,  had  not  yet  overcome. 

"Request  the  Princess  "—the  title  by  which 
Jacques  Barbier  designated  Dona  Julia  de 
Aquilar — "request  the  Princess,  Monsieur  le 
Comte,  to  retire  to  her  hut  for  the  night !  There 
are  men  stirring  upon  the  further  bank  who  are 
neither  Quinipissas  nor  Tangibaos.  I  fear,  mon 
sieur,  that  you  have  underrated  the  persistence 
of  your  foes  who  make  the  sun  their  god.  Un 
less  I  never  knew  the  woods,  there  are  stalwart 
strangers  in  the  bushes  over  there.  Go  you,  mon 
sieur,  and  watch  the  river,  while  I  keep  an  eye 
upon  this  bank.  Gar,  'twill  be  a  pretty  fight, 
Monsieur  le  Comte !  Your  hand  is  steady  ? 
282 


DE   SANCERRE'S    ISLAND    BESIEGED 

Bien!  The  moon  will  soon  be  up.  Keep  close 
to  earth  when  you  have  reached  the  river!" 

"Jlafoi,  Jacques  Barbier,  I  like  the  way  you 
talk!"  whispered  de  Sancerre.  "But,  tell  me, 
we're  short  of  bullets,  are  we  not  ?" 

"  Humph !"  grunted  the  Canadian,  gruffly. 
"We've  none  to  waste  upon  the  waters  or  the 
trees,  Monsieur  le  Comte!  Bear  that  in  mind." 

"  Tell  me,  senor,"  exclaimed  Dona  Julia,  to 
whom  Jacques  Barbier's  French  patois  was  an 
unmeaning  j amble  of  more  or  less  unrecogniz 
able  words  when  he  spoke  rapidly :  "  Tell  me, 
sefior,  has  he  seen  the  sun -priests  on  yonder 
shore?"  Her  hand  was  like  a  piece  of  ice  in 
his  clasp,  as  de  Sancerre  led  the  girl  toward 
the  hut. 

"I  hardly  know,  ma  chere"  answered  her 
lover,  frankly.  "  There  are  men  stirring  upon 
the  bank,  but  I  cannot  believe  that  they  are  from 
the  City  of  the  Sun.  But  if  they  are,  my  sweet 
heart,  there  are  those  among  them  who  will 
never  look  upon  their  mud-baked  homes  again ! 
'Tis  strange  how  a  fat  larder  restores  the  fight 
ing  spirit  to  a  man.  A  month  ago  my  stomach 
loathed  a  battle.  At  that  time,  all  that  it  want 
ed  was  a  bird.  To-night,  if  you  were  far  away, 
senora,  I'd  take  rare  pleasure  in  doing  moon-tricks 
when  the  moon  is  full.  And  so  adieu,  my  sweet 
heart,"  he  whispered,  pressing  his  lips  to  hers 

283 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

ere  she  bent  down  to  enter  her  rude  cabin. 
"  When  you  hear  my  musket  speak,  you'll  know 
an  enemy  of  yours  has  need  of  prayer." 

It  was  not  long  after  this  that  de  Sancerre 
made  good  his  boast,  although  Jacques  Barbier 
began  the  battle  of  the  night.  The  French  count 
had  dragged  his  musket  and  his  crouching  body 
through  the  long  grass  toward  the  eastern  shore 
of  the  small  island,  and  had  taken  one  sweeping 
glance  at  the  river,  over  which  at  that  instant 
the  risen  moon  had  thrown  a  flood  of  silvery 
light,  when  behind  him  he  heard  the  roar  of  the 
Canadian's  deadly  gun.  But  de  Sancerre  had  no 
time  to  think  of  his  faithful  ally  at  that  critical 
moment.  Almost  upon  a  line  with  the  island, 
and  coming  straight  toward  it,  two  heavily 
manned  war-canoes  of  the  sun-worshippers  rose 
and  fell  upon  the  moon-kissed  flood.  The  immi 
nence  of  his  peril  acted  upon  de  Sancerre  like  a 
draught  of  rich,  old  wine. 

"  What  reckless  fools  these  be!"  he  exclaimed, 
taking  careful  aim  at  the  nearest  canoe,  now 
within  a  hundred  yards  of  his  grass -grown 
shooting-box.  "  Be  faithful,  ma  petite  !  The 
time  has  come  again  !" 

The  thunder  of  de  Sancerre's  gun  chased  the 
echoes  from  the  musket  of  the  coureur  de  ~bois 
across  the  glimmering  flood. 

"  Ma  foi  /".  muttered  de  Sancerre.  "  Saint 
284 


DE   SANCERRE'S    ISLAND    BESIEGED 

Maturin  is  wide  awake  to-night!  That  bullet 
did  its  work." 

Reloading  his  musket  with  all  possible  speed, 
the  Frenchman,  with  a  grim  smile  upon  his  face, 
drew  a  bead  upon  the  second  canoe,  which  had 
now  forged  ahead  of  the  boat-load  upon  which  de 
Sancerre's  fatal  shot  had  exercised  a  demoraliz 
ing  effect.  Meanwhile,  Jacques  Barbier's  gun 
had  spoken  twice,  for  he  had  learned  to  reload 
his  weapon  with  a  celerity  only  acquired  after 
years  of  practice. 

"Steady,  now,  ma  petite"  muttered  de  San- 
cerre.  "  You  have  a  record  to  maintain.  Adieu, 
monsieur  /" 

A  paddle  and  its  dusky  wielder  fell  into  the 
black-and-white  flood,  and  a  moment  later  the 
two  canoes  had  retreated  to  mid-stream. 

"Gar,  you  shoot  well,  Monsieur  le  Comte!" 
exclaimed  Jacques  Barbier,  creeping  to  de  San 
cerre's  side.  "  If  our  bullets  could  have  children, 
we  could  hold  this  island  for  a  year!  There  is 
no  danger  from  the  forest  for  a  time;  and,  I 
think,  those  boats  will  not  come  near  us  for  an 
hour  at  least.  These  be  the  demons  from  your 
City  of  the  Sun?" 

"  There  is  no  doubt  about  it !"  exclaimed  de 

Sancerre.   "  It  must  amaze  them  to  meet  so  much 

moon-magic,  although  the  moon  is  full.    What 

think  you,  Jacques,  will  be  their  next  attempt?" 

285 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

"  They'll  hold  aloof,  Monsieur  le  Comte,  until 
their  courage  rises  or  a  cloud  obstructs  the  moon. 
'Tis  best,  I  think,  that  we  patrol  our  fort.  You 
pace  the  island  to  the  right.  I'll  meet  you  half 
way  round,  and  then  return.  Unless  our  bullets 
fly  away  too  fast  there  is  no  danger— for  this 
night  at  least." 

"  Think  you,  Jacques  Barbier,  they  saw  the 
maiden — Coyocop  ?" 

"  Gar,  'tis  certain,  is  it  not?  Their  bold  attack 
by  boat  and  shore  was  not  the  outcome  of  a 
clumsy  chance.  They  knew  that  she  was  here, 
and  thought  that  you  could  not  defend  the 
island  on  both  sides.  But  this  is  not  the  time  for 
talk,  monsieur.  Marchonaf" 

An  hour  passed  by,  and  the  island's  sentinels 
could  find  neither  upon  land  nor  stream  sure 
proof  that  the  sun- worshippers  meditated  an  im 
mediate  renewal  of  their  attack. 

"  Tell  me,  senora,"  cried  de  Sancerre,  abandon 
ing  his  patrol  for  a  time  to  have  speech  with 
Dona  Julia — "tell  me  what  it  means!  They 
found  two  guns  awaiting  them  instead  of  one. 
But  they  have  come  in  force  by  wood  and  stream. 
They  have  no  skill  in  war,  if  this  is  all  their 

fight." 

"  Be  patient,  senor,  they  will  come  again,"  re 
marked  the  Spanish  maiden,  unconsciously  sug 
gesting  by  her  words  the  influence  which  de 


DE    SANCERRE'S    ISLAND    BESIEGED 

Sancerre's  mind  held  over  hers.  "  They  have  con 
cealed  themselves,  to  talk  of  many  things  which 
worry  them.  " 

"Par  exemple?"  exclaimed  de  Sancerre,  thrust 
ing  his  hand  through  the  opening  to  her  hut,  to 
clasp  hers. 

"  They  know  that  I  am  here." 

"  You  feel  sure  of  that  ?" 

"  Yes.  But  they  will  not  return  to-night — for 
all  night  long  the  moon  will  shine." 

"  Pardieu,  I  do  not  follow  you,  senora." 

"  'Tis  clear  to  me,"  said  the  girl,  firmly.  "  Some 
how,  I  seem  to  read  their  minds,  as  if  the  saints 
were  speaking  to  my  soul.  They  fear  that  your 
white  witchery,  when  the  moon  is  full,  is  more 
fatal  than  they  had  dreamed.  They  will  await 
the  rising  of  their  god,  the  sun,  before  they  try  to 
capture  me  again.  Be  convinced  of  this :  they 
will  attack  you,  senor,  just  at  dawn.  I  know 
their  hearts  and  habits  well  enough  to  feel  as 
sured  that  what  I  say  is  true.  They  are  not 
cowards,  but  they  dread  the  magic  of  your  dead 
ly  guns." 

"  But  listen,  senora.  I  fought  them  in  the  sun 
light  once  before.  They  know  that  ma  petite 
can  kill  by  day,"  argued  de  Sancerre,  hoping 
against  hope  that,  for  the  sake  of  their  scanty 
store  of  bullets,  the  girl  was  right. 

"  Believe  me,  senor,  that  I  read  their  evil 
287 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

minds.  They  think  their  god,  the  sun,  more  pow 
erful  at  dawn  than  later  in  the  day.  The  Great 
Spirit,  so  the  sun-priests  say,  is  not  unlike  a  man, 
and  takes  a  long  siesta  at  high  noon.  They  have 
attacked  you  now  at  noon  and  in  the  night. 
They  will  not  tempt  your  wizard  gun  again  until 
their  shining  god  is  wide  awake." 

"Ma  foi,  ma  chere,  your  woman's  wit  has 
wrought  a  miracle,  I  think !"  exclaimed  de  San- 
cerre.  "  I  owe  an  altar  somewhere  far  from 
hence,  if  what  you  say  is  true.  And  so  I'll  leave 
you,  sweetheart,  for  a  time.  I  must  have  speech 
with  Barbier." 

"Welcome,  monsieur,"  cried  the  coureur  de 
bois,  as  the  Count  approached  him  from  behind. 
"  I've  watched  the  shore  until  my  eyes  are  hot, 
and  cannot  see  a  sign  of  living  thing.  The  river 
and  the  woods  suggest  that  we  were  scared  by 
ghosts." 

"Nay,  Jacques,  you'll  find  our  foes  were 
made  of  flesh  and  blood !  They  will  return  in 
force  at  dawn !"  exclaimed  de  Sancerre,  throw 
ing  himself  upon  the  long  grass  at  Barbier's 
side. 

The  coureur  de  bois  glanced  at  the  ragged, 
white-faced  patrician  at  his  side  with  a  satirical 
gleam  in  his  restless  eyes. 

"You've  learned  your  woodcraft  with  great 
celerity,  Monsieur  le  Comte,"  he  exclaimed,  sar- 


DE    SANCERRE'S    ISLAND    BESIEGED 

castically.  "  Mayhap  the  saints  have  told  you 
what  would  come  to  us." 

De  Sancerre  smiled  coldly.  "  'Tis  neither  wood 
craft  nor  the  saints  to  whom  I  owe  my  thanks, 
Jacques  Barbier,"  he  remarked,  quietly.  "  I  am 
a  seer  and  prophet  through  the  goddess  Coyo- 
cop.  And  now,  young  man,  I'll  let  you  watch 
awhile,  and  get  a  Avink  of  sleep.  I'll  need  a 
steady  hand  at  dawn.  Arouse  me  in  an  hour, 
and  I  will  take  my  turn  at  watching  peaceful 
scenes.  Good-night,  Jacques  Barbier.  Bear  this 
in  mind !  We'll  have  to  fight  an  army  when 
the  sun  comes  up." 

A  moment  later  de  Sancerre  lay  out-stretched 
beneath  the  moon  in  dreamless  sleep,  while  the 
coureur  de  bois,  pacing  restlessly  the  little  isl 
and,  nursed  his  wounded  pride,  and  wondered 
if  the  morning  would  teach  him  something  new. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

IN    WHICH    THE    GREAT  SPIRIT   COMES    FROM    THE   SEA 
TO  RECLAIM   COYOCOP 

COYOCOP'S  prediction  was  fulfilled  at  dawn. 
The  year  which  Dona  Julia  de  Aquilar  had  pass 
ed  in  the  City  of  the  Sun  had  enabled  her  to  read 
aright  the  minds  of  the  sun-worshippers  after 
their  moonlit  attack  upon  de  Sancerre's  island 
had  been  repulsed.  They  had  awaited  the  com 
ing  of  their  gleaming  god,  and  had  been  reward 
ed  by  a  sunrise  whose  splendor  should  have 
filled  their  childish  souls  with  love  and  peace. 
But  the  mounting  orb  of  day  was  greeted  by  its 
idolaters  not  with  gentle  hymns  of  praise,  but 
with  wild,  warlike  shouts,  that  echoed  from 
the  woods  and  across  the  flood  with  a  grim, 
menacing  persistence  that  sent  a  chill  through 
the  hearts  of  a  maiden  and  her  lover,  and  caused 
a  dare-devil  from  the  northern  woods  to  look 
with  care  to  the  priming  of  his  gun. 

For  the  first  time  since  Jacques  Barbier,  in  a 
fit  of  temper  caused  by  some  fancied  slight  put 
upon  him  by  the  haughty  de  la  Salle,  had  desert- 
290 


THE    GREAT    SPIRIT    FROM    THE    SEA 

ed  the  great  explorer's  party,  trusting  confident 
ly  to  his  own  skill  as  a  woodsman  to  carry  him 
safely  back  to  Canada,  the  coureur  de  bois  had 
regretted,  momentarily,  his  reckless  self-confi 
dence.  Had  he  remained  with  his  captain,  he 
might  have  been,  at  this  time,  half-way  up  the 
river  toward  the  forests  which  he  knew  and 
loved ;  and  here  he  was,  at  the  dawn  of  a  day 
made  to  give  joy  to  a  runner  of  the  woods,  sur 
rounded  by  gigantic,  fierce-eyed  warriors,  already 
raising  hoarse  shouts  of  triumph  for  the  easy  vic 
tory  which  seemed  to  lie  within  their  reach. 

"Gar!"  exclaimed  Barbier,  as  he  raised  his  gun 
to  his  shoulder.  "  Service  with  de  la  Salle  was 
hard,  but  'twas  easier  than  death.  But,  then, 
'tis  time  for  me  to  die  !  When  a  wandering  out 
cast  from  the  Court  of  France  comes  here  to  tell 
me  what  will  happen  in  the  woods — and,  par- 
dieu,  he  told  me  true  —  there's  nothing  left  in 
life  for  poor  Jacques  Barbier!" 

A  few  moments  before  the  coureur  de  lois  had 
elevated  his  musket,  to  begin  a  battle  against 
overwhelming  odds,  de  Sancerre  had  said  fare 
well  to  a  heavy -e}Ted,  pale -lipped  maiden,  who 
had  spent  the  night  in  prayer,  fearful  of  the 
peril  which  the  dawn  would  bring  to  a  brave 
knight-errant  who  had  grown  dearer  to  her  lov 
ing  heart  with  every  day  that  had  passed.  Well 
Doha  Julia  knew  that  captivity,  not  death,  would 

291 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

be  her  lot  should  the  sun-worshippers  reach  the 
island,  but  that  they  would  grant  mercy  to  de 
Sancerre  she  had  no  hope.  The  thought  of  life 
without  the  man  whose  love  had  come  to  her 
as  the  rarest  gift  which  Heaven  could  bestow 
was  a  horror  which  drove  the  color  from  her 
face  and  robbed  her  voice  of  everything  save 
sobs. 

"  Remember,  sweetheart,  if  the  worst  should 
come  to  me,"  said  de  Sancerre,  with  forced  calrn^ 
ness,  bending  down  to  press  his  cold  lips  to  her 
trembling  hand,  "  that  your  brave,  earnest  heart 
has  taught  me  how  to  live  and  how  to  die.  Pray 
to  the  Virgin,  who  holds  you  in  her  care,  to  keep 
me  always  worthy  of  your  love,  'though  death 
should  come  between  us  for  a  time.  Adieu, 
ma  cli&re!  God  grant  'tis  an  revoirf" 

The  girl  clung  to  his  hand,  wet  with  her  tears, 
and  strove  in  vain  to  speak,  to  put  into  halting 
words  the  love  and  despair  which  filled  her  soul. 
For  an  instant  her  white  face  looked  up  at  him 
from  the  entrance  to  the  hut,  and  de  Sancerre 
bent  forward  and  kissed  her  hot,  dry  lips. 

A  moment  later  he  had  crawled  through  the 
tall  grass  toward  the  eastern  shore  of  the  island 
and  lay  watching,  once  again,  the  two  war-canoes 
of  the  black -haired,  black -eyed,  black-hearted 
savages  who  had  turned  from  their  adoration 
of  the  sun  to  begin  anew  their  devil's  work. 

292 


THE    GREAT    SPIRIT    FROM    THE    SEA 

Suddenly  a  shower  of  feathered,  reed-made  ar 
rows  whizzed  above  the  gleaming  waves,  deadly 
from  the  speed  with  which  long  acacia  bows  en 
dowed  them. 

"Ma  foi,  the  sun-wasps  begin  to  sting !"  ex 
claimed  de  Sancerre.  At  that  instant  he  heard 
Jacques  Barbier's  gun,  warning  the  sun-worship 
pers'  land-force  not  to  launch  a  canoe  from  the 
shore  nearest  to  the  island. 

The  Count  and  the  Canadian,  an  hour  before 
sunrise,  had  divided  the  store  of  bullets  which 
remained  to  them,  and  had  found  that  only  a 
dozen  shots  from  each  musket  stood  between 
them  and  certain  death. 

"  I  know  how  a  miser  feels  as  he  counts  his 
gold,"  soliloquized  de  Sancerre,  as  he  aimed  his 
gun  at  the  canoe,  from  which  a  broadside  of 
arrows  had  been  launched  at  his  coigne  of  van 
tage.  "  Here  goes  number  one,  ma  petite!  There 
are  only  eleven  more  to  defend  a  Count  of  Lan- 
guedoc  from  the  life  to  come !  Bon  matin, 
monsieur  /" 

To  de  Sancerre's  chagrin  and  dismay,  the 
brawny,  brown  paddler  at  whom  he  had  aimed 
his  musket  had  defied  moon-magic  at  the  dawn 
of  day.  The  Count's  precious  bullet  had  done 
no  harm  to  the  oncoming  canoe,  nor  to  the  war- 
party  which  it  held.  Cold  with  the  horrid  pos 
sibilities  opened  up  by  his  indifferent  marksman- 
293 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

ship,  de  Sancerre,  with  hands  which  trembled 
annoyingly,  attempted  to  reload  his  gun  in  time 
to  prevent  the  imminent  landing  of  the  howling 
bowmen.  That  his  shot  would  have  come  too 
late  the  speed  of  the  canoe  made  evident,  when 
a  crash,  almost  at  his  very  ear,  nearly  deafened 
the  astonished  Frenchman  for  a  time.  Jacques 
Barbier,  having  checked  momentarily  by  his 
marvellous  skill  with  his  musket  the  attack  from 
the  main-land,  had  come  to  de  Sancerre's  defence 
in  the  nick  of  time.  But  the  coureur  de  bois 
paid  dearly  for  the  support  that  he  had  given 
to  the  unnerved  Frenchman.  An  arrow,  shot 
by  a  dusky  warrior  more  daring  than  his  com 
panions,  had  made  answer  to  Jacques  Barbier's 
fatal  bullet  and  had  entered  the  Canadian's 
breast  just  below  his  dangling  tobacco-pipe. 

"Mother  Mary,  that  is  enough!"  groaned  the 
coureur  de  bois,  writhing  upon  the  tousled  grass 
by  his  horrified  comrade's  side.  "  Courage,  Mon 
sieur  le  Comte!  Let  them  have  your  charge! 
I  have  just  life  enough  left  to  load  my  gun 
again.  Wait!  Your  hand  trembles!  Bien! 
Fire !" 

De  Sancerre's  musket  roared  once  again  and 
his  bullet  found  its  way  to  the  heart  of  a  foe. 

"Take  my  gun,  monsieur,"  gasped  Barbier. 
"  I  made  shift  to  load  it — but,  gar,  this  is  death! 
Ugh!" 

294 


THE    GREAT    SPIRIT   FROM    THE    SEA 

A  hero  at  the  end  of  his  short,  wild  life,  the 
coureur  de  bois  lay  dead  upon  the  shore. 

At  that  instant  the  waters  of  the  gulf  and  the 
river's  mouth  vibrated  with  the  thunder  of  an 
explosion  which,  to  the  ears  of  the  startled  sun- 
worshippers  upon  the  main-land  and  in  the  crowd 
ed  war-boats,  sounded  like  moon-magic  gone  mad 
with  victory. 

"  Nom  de  Dieu,  it  is  the  cannon  of  a  ship  or 
my  ears  are  haunted  by  Jacques  Barbier's  gun!" 
exclaimed  de  Sancerre,  eying  the  retreating  ca 
noes  as  he  stealthily  raised  his  head  above  the 
underbrush  and  then  cast  a  searching  glance 
toward  the  sun-kissed  sea.  To  his  amazement 
and  joy,  his  gaze  rested  upon  a  clumsy  carack, 
loaded  deep,  coming  to  anchor  not  half  a  mile 
below  the  island  upon  which  he  stood.  A  puif 
of  smoke  arose  from  the  great  ship's  bow  at  that 
moment,  and  again  the  astonished  woods  and 
waters  reverberated  with  an  uproar  new  to  the 
ears  of  a  hundred  terrified  warriors,  who  had 
come  forth  to  recover  a  goddess  and  had  been 
met  with  the  awful  chiding  of  the  Great  Spirit, 
who  had  sent  a  mighty  vessel,  larger  than  their 
wildest  dreams  had  known,  to  carry  Coyocop 
back  again  to  God. 

With  his  heart  throbbing  with  many  varied 
emotions,  de  Sancerre  had  reluctantly  turned  his 
grateful  eyes  from  the  sea,  no  longer  a  lonely, 

295 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

cruel  waste  of  tossing  waves,  toward  the  forest 
to  the  westward,  into  which  the  land-forces  of 
the  disorganized  sun- worshippers  were  scurrying 
in  mad  fear  of  an  avenging  deity,  when  he  felt  a 
light  hand  upon  his  arm,  and,  turning  quickly, 
gazed  down  into  the  dark,  glowing  eyes  of  a 
maiden  whose  trust  in  the  saints  had  not  been 
betrayed. 

"  In  the  hut  I  knelt  in  prayer,"  whispered  Dona 
Julia,  from  whose  face  shone  the  light  of  a  soul 
that  had  known  deep  sorrow  and  great  joy, 
"  when  I  heard  my  father's  voice,  telling  me 
that  help  was  near.  Oh,  senor,  the  wonder  of  it 
all!" 

"  It  looks  to  me  a  miracle,  indeed !"  exclaimed 
de  Sancerre.  "  There  seemed  to  be  no  hope  when 
Barbier  was  hit!  He  died,  senora,  the  death  of 
a  true  man." 

Hand  in  hand,  they  stood  for  a  time  gazing 
down  at  the  brave,  liberty -loving  runner  of  the 
woods,  whose  clean-cut,  handsome  face  had  kept 
its  firm,  symmetrical  outlines  through  the  agony 
of  sudden  death. 

"  Give  me  back  again  my  dagger,  sweetheart," 
said  de  Sancerre,  turning  sadly  away  from  a  grim 
picture  of  manly  vigor  cut  down  in  its  youthful 
prime.  "I  did  Jacques  Barbier  a  cruel  wrong! 
He  was  too  brave  a  man  to  do  a  coward's  deed !" 

"They're  manning  a  boat  to  come  to  us!" 
296 


n 

i 


THE    GREAT    SPIRIT    FROM    THE    SEA 

exclaimed  the  Frenchman  a  moment  later,  as  he 
and  Dona  Julia  turned  again  to  gaze  at  the  great 
carack,  rising  and  falling  upon  the  early  morning 
tide.  "It  is  a  Spanish  vessel,  sweetheart !" 

"  8i,  senor.  There  is  no  doubt  of  that !  I  can 
not  read  the  flag  she  flies,  but  'tis  some  Spanish 
merchant-man  bound  west  for  Mexico." 

De  Sancerre  slipped  an  arm,  covered  with  vel 
vet  rags,  around  the  slender  waist  of  the  girl, 
whose  sweet  face  had  gained  new  beauty  from 
the  mighty  miracle  which  the  saints  had  wrought 
in  her  behalf. 

"  They  heard  our  guns  at  dawn  across  the  sea, 
and  saw  my  canvas  flapping  in  the  breeze,"  he 
said,  musingly.  "  At  last,  by  chance,  the  King 
of  France  has  done  me  a  good  turn!  He  owed 
me  one,  seiiora.  My  sword  has  served  him  well, 
but  when  it  made  a  slip,  which  love  itself  forgave, 
he  turned  his  face  away,  and  left  me,  sweetheart, 
with  no  land  to  call  my  own !" 

Dona  Julia  looked  up  at  her  lover  with  a 
bright  smile  upon  her  curving  lips,  and  her  elo 
quent  eyes  told  of  a  joyful  heart,  as  she  said: 

"  If  so  my  countrymen  in  yonder  boat  are  kind 
enough  to  take  us,  senor,  to  the  West,  we'll  find 
a  province  which  belongs  to  me.  If  you  will 
deign  to  make  my  realm  the  land  of  your  adop 
tion,  I  pledge  my  word  to  be  a  gracious  queen." 

Falling  to  one  knee,  with  the  airy  grace  of  a 


WITH    SWORD    AND    CRUCIFIX 

courtier  who  had  never  known  the  manners  of 
the  woods  and  wilds,  de  Sancerre  pressed  the 
girl's  hand  to  his  smiling  lips. 

"  Here,  within  sight  of  a  column  bearing  the 
arms  of  France  and  Navarre,"  he  cried,  gayly, 
"I  forswear  all  allegiance  to  other  kings  than 
Love,  and  hereby  pledge  my  life  and  heart  and 
sword  to  the  service  of  my  queen,  whose  hand  I 
kiss!" 

The  salt  breeze  from  the  playful  sea,  smiling 
beneath  the  bright  June  sun,  brought  to  their 
ears  at  that  moment  the  sound  of  a  small  boat 
scraping  upon  the  beach,  and  the  rumble  of  oars 
clattering  against  dry  wood. 


The  sun  was  sinking  toward  the  West,  and  the 
King's  Column,  after  a  long  interval  of  silence, 
spake  complaining  words  to  the  Cross  of  Christ. 
"'Twill  be  more  lonely  for  us  now  than  hereto 
fore,"  grumbled  the  tall  pillar,  above  which  a 
shred  of  soiled  canvas  hung,  heavy  and  limp, 
flapping  lazily  now  and  again  against  the  wood 
en  sides  of  the  royal  herald.  "  In  yonder  ship, 
whose  sails  resemble  golden  wings  against  the 
background  of  the  deep,  a  man  and  maiden, 
seemingly  most  worthy  of  the  blessings  of  this 
realm  of  mine,  have  taken  flight  and  treated  me 
with  strange  ingratitude.  I  marvel  that  they 

298 


THE    GREAT    SPIRIT    FROM    THE    SEA 

should  in  such  wise  spurn  my  royal  master  and 
the  haughty  arms  of  France." 

The  Cross  of  Christ  said  nothing  to  soothe  the 
wounded  pride  of  the  pompous  pillar,  towering 
above  the  humble  emblem  of  an  all-conquering 
faith  in  the  crimson  light  of  the  waning  day. 
Mayhap  the  Cross  had  no  time,  at  that  sad 
moment,  to  give  to  happy  lovers,  sailing  through 
the  glowing  twilight  toward  a  land  of  peace  and 
joy.  At  its  base  lay  a  newly-made  grave,  within 
which  slept  the  body  of  a  youth  who  had  loved 
God's  world  and  hated  the  tyranny  of  men. 


THE  END 


BY  H.  G.  WELLS 


WHEN  THE  SLEEPER  WAKES.    Illustrated.    Post 
8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  50. 

u  This  romance  of  the  twenty-second  century,"  as  the  Lon 
don  Daily  Telegraph  says,  "  will  prove  absolutely  enthralling. 
The  hero  goes  into  a  trance  in*  1900,  and  when  he  awakes  two 
centuries  later  he  finds  that  his  property  has  increased  so 
greatly  that  he  owns  more  than  half  the  world." 

THIRTY  STRANGE  STORIES.    New  Edition.   Post 
8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  50. 

Creepy,  ingenious,  original,  and  more  than  clever  they  all 
are.  They  fascinate  you  like  the  eye  of  a  snake.  ...  It  would 
be  impossible  to  find  a  group  of  stories  that  will  give  the 
reader  more  sensations,  or  hold  his  attention  more  firmly. — 
.Boston  Herald. 

THE  WAR  OP  THE  WORLDS.     With  Illustrations. 
Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  50. 

One  of  the  conspicuous  books  of  the  year,  from  its  striking 
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THE    INVISIBLE    MAN.     A  Grotesque  Romance. 

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In  his  audacious  imaginative  insight  into  the  romantic 
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modem  science  Mr.  Wells  stands  unrivalled.  ...  It  is  just 
like  a  transcript  from  real  life,  recalling  the  best  work  of  Poe 
in  its  accent  of  sincerity  and  surpassing  it  in  its  felicity  of 
gtyle. —  TJie  Spectator,  London. 


HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS 

NEW   YORK   AND    LONDON 

ftjF'Any  of  the  above  works  will  be  sent  by  mail,  postage 
prepaid,  to  any  part  of  the  United  States,  Canada,  or 
Mexico,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


BY  A.  CONAN  DOYLE 


THE  REFUGEES.     A  Tale  of  Two  Continents.    Illus 
trated.     Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  75. 

THE  WHITE  COMPANY.     Illustrated.      Post  8vo, 
Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  75. 

MICAH  CLARKE.    Illustrated.    Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Or 
namental,  $1  75  ;  8vo,  Paper,  45  cents. 

THE  ADVENTURES  OF  SHERLOCK  HOLMES. 

Illustrated.     Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  50. 

CONTENTS  :  A  Scandal  in  Bohemia,  The  Red  -  headed 
League,  A  Case  of  Identity,  The  Boscombe  Valley  Mystery, 
The  Five  Orange  Pips,  The  Man  with  the  Twisted  Lip,  The 
Blue  Carbuncle,  The  Speckled  Band,  The  Engineer's  Thumb, 
The  Noble  Bachelor,  The  Beryl  Coronet,  Tiie  Copper  Beeches. 

MEMOIRS  OF  SHERLOCK  HOLMES.    Illustrated. 
Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  50. 

CONTENTS:  Silver  Blaze,  The  Yellow  Face,  The  Stock- 
Broker's  Clerk,  The  "Gloria  Scott,"  The  Musprave  Ritual, 
The  Reigate  Puzzle,  The  Crooked  Man,  The  Resident  Patient, 
The  Greek  Interpreter,  The  Navy  Treaty,  The  Final  Problem. 

THE  PARASITE.     A  story.     Illustrated.     Post  8vo, 
Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  00. 

THE  GREAT  SHADOW.  Post  8  vo,  Cloth,  Ornament 
al,  $1  00. 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS 

NEW    YORK    AND    LONDON 


of  (he  above  works  will  be  sent,  by  mail,  postage 
prepaid,  to  any  part  of  the  United  States,  Canada,  or  Mtxico, 
on  receipt  of  the  price. 


BY  JOHN  FOX,  JB. 


A  MOUNTAIN  EUROPA.   With  Portrait.    Post  8vo, 

Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  25. 

The  story  is  well  worth  careful  reading  for  its  literary  art 
and  its  truth  to  a  phase  of  little -known  American  life. — 
Omaha  Bee. 

THE  KENTUCKIANS.    A  Novel.     Illustrated  by  W. 
T.  SMEDLBY.     Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  25. 

This,  Mr.  Fox's  first  long  story,  sets  him  well  in  view,  and 
distinguishes  him  as  at  once  original  and  sound.  He  takes 
the  right  view  of  the  story- writer's  function  and  the  whole 
sale  view  of  what  the  art  of  fiction  can  rightfully  attempt.— 
Independent,  N.  Y. 

"HELL  FER  SARTAIN,"  and  Other  Stories.      Post 
8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  00. 

Mr.  Fox  has  made  a  great  success  of  his  pictures  of  the 
rude  life  and  primitive  passions  of  the  people  of  the  moun 
tains  of  West  Virginia  and  Kentucky.  His  sketches  are 
short  but  graphic;  he  paints  his  scenes  and  his  hill  people 
in  terse  and  simple  phrases  and  makes  them  genuinely  pict 
uresque,  giving  us  glimpses  of  life  that  are  distinctively  Amer 
ican. — Detroit  Free  Press. 

A  CUMBERLAND  VENDETTA,  and  Other  Stories. 
Illustrated.     Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  25. 

These  stories  are  tempestuously  alive,  and  sweep  the  heart 
strings  with  a  master-hand. — Watchman,  Boston. 


HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS 

NEW   YORK   AND   LONDON 

fl®=-  Any  of  the  above  works  will  be  sent  by  mail,  postage  prepaid,  to 
any  part  of  the  United  States,  Canada,  or  Mexico,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


BY  W.  CLAKK  KUSSELL 


A  SEA  QUEEN.     16mo,  Half  Cloth,  $1  00. 

JACK'S  COURTSHIP.     A  Sailor's  Yarn  of  Love  and 
Shipwreck.     16mo,  Half  Cloth,  75  cents. 
The  present  "  Jack  "  is  a  lover  who  ships  for  Australia  on 
board  the  same  vessel   with  his  sweetheart,  whom  a  stern 
father  has  sent  off  to  get  her  out  of  the  way  of  his  atten 
tions.     Shipwreck  and  a  chapter  of  Robinson  Crusoe  life  on 
a  desert  island  vary  the  fortunes  of  "  Jack's  Courtship,"  all 
of  which  are  related  in  Mr.  Russell's  vivid  style. — Literary 
World,  Boston. 

A    VOYAGE    TO    THE    CAPE.      16rao,   Paper,   25 
cents. 

AN   OCEAN   TRAGEDY.    8vo,  Paper,  50  cents. 
MAROONED.     8vo,  Paper,  25  cents. 

MRS.   DINES'S  JEWELS.     Illustrated.     8vo,  Paper, 
50  cents. 

MY    DANISH    SWEETHEART.    Illustrated.    8vo, 
Paper,  60  cents. 

MY  SHIPMATE  LOUISE.     8vo,  Paper,  50  cents. 

A  novel  by  Mr.  Clark  Russell  cannot  fail  to  reach  the 
strongest  interest,  and  to  be  characterized  by  the  genius  of 
one  who,  beyond  all  writers,  understands  sailors  and  the  sea. 
—  Graphic,  London. 

As  a  writer  on  all  subjects  connected  with  the  sea  and 
those  who  live  on  it,  he  is  without  a  rival. — Morning  Post, 
London. 


HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS 

NEW   YORK   AND    LONDON 

Any  of  the  above  works  will  be  sent  hi/  mail,  postage 
prepaid,  to  any  part  of  the  United  Slates,  Canada,  or  Mexico, 
on  receipt  of  ike  price. 


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